The Feelings in the Memories
by ecv
Summary: An unexpected event throws Booth and Brennan into turmoil.
1. Hide

_A/N: A couple of things before you start reading…_

 _1\. My muse has been awfully quiet lately, so I went back to Bonesology and started using the second list of words from the summer challenge as inspiration. I am not following the 300 words chapter limit on this one, so plan on some longer and some shorter chapters. As with the first list, this will be multi-chapter._

 _2\. I'm sure what I'm writing about is probably not medically possible. But I'm not a doctor and this is FanFiction. In case that sort of thing bothers you, you should probably stop here._

 _3\. No one dies except the bad guys, I promise. I don't own Bones._

Why, Booth wondered, did the worst always seem to happen in the middle of the night? Brennan turned him down in front of the Hoover, at night. Hannah turned down his marriage proposal, that one was probably for the best, at night. It was the time of nightmares and ghosts and demons. A time he should have been safely in his home, dreaming of better times.

Instead, he nervously paced the carpeted floor, having giving up on sitting. Brennan's colleagues watched him wearily from the chairs. Angela had tried to get him to sit down, but had given up when a glare had been his only response. It was nervous energy keeping most of them going now.

They'd all been in that room for hours, waiting and praying to whatever deity they believed in, that she would be okay. That the doctor and Cam would walk out together with relieved smiles on their faces, and tell him that she wasn't going to die.

That he hadn't gotten her killed.

Desperate to hide from the truth, he tried not to think about the last twelve hours, about the gun battle that had resulted in her injuries. This time, he hadn't been fast enough to step in front of the bullets. He'd only had time to shoot back. Booth had taken a life in order to save one.

He clenched his hands into fists, recalling the feel of them pressing against her chest. Was that the desperation she'd felt, trying to save his life on the floor of that club? That heart stopping fear that when she lost consciousness, he'd never see those blue eyes again.

Bones would tell him it wasn't his fault. Why would they ever think their suspect would step out of the house with a loaded gun? Hell, he hadn't even been considered a suspect at that point. It was just an interview. Something they'd done a thousand times together.

What had they been talking about as he pulled up to the curb? Booth tried to remember, in case it was the last time he heard her voice. Had they argued? Was she angry? Had Bones stormed from the vehicle, not giving him time to get in front of her?

Yes, this was definitely his fault.

Booth looked at the clock again, to see only five minutes had passed since the last time he'd glanced up. How much longer was this going to take?

Two gunshot wounds to the chest. She shouldn't still be alive. Was it shear will that was keeping her on this side of the curtain? He refused to believe she wouldn't be okay, in case his faith was keeping her here.

Bones would tell him that was ridiculous. Booth didn't care.

"Booth," Hodgins said softly, interrupting the train of thoughts. Whirling, Booth realized Cam had stepped into the room while his back was turned. He tried to read her like a suspect; to find out the truth before the words left her lips.

He couldn't do it.

"She's alive," Cam said, but her voice didn't sound relieved. It was weary and filled with stress.

"But," Booth said, knowing there was more.

Cam tilted her head toward the floor. "She lost a lot of blood," she said. Picking her head back up, Cam tried to blink back the tears. "There was a lack of oxygen."

"English," Booth demanded.

Her cap twisted in her hands, Cam nodded. "The next twenty-four hours are critical," she explained, looking at all of them and none of them at the same time. "If she survives the next twenty-four hours, she has a good chance."

The signs were there. Booth could see them and swallowed heavily before confirming what he saw. "You don't expect her to survive, do you?"

Angela gasped, but Booth couldn't turn away from the woman in front of him. "Dr. Brennan is strong," Cam answered, clearly avoiding the question. "She has a better chance than most."

The woman danced from one foot to the other. Should she tell them how many times and for how long Brennan's heart had stopped? Should Cam answer Booth's question with the honesty he deserved and tell him what he suspected was true. Cam didn't expect her to survive the night.

"Cam," Angela whispered. "Is Booth right?"

Knowing Brennan would want nothing less than the truth if the roles were reversed, Cam felt her head begin to nod slowly. "But I didn't expect her to come out of surgery alive," she added. "So the fact that she's made it this far is a huge accomplishment."

For several moments, the only sound in the room was Angela's quiet weeping. Until she took a deep breath and turned to Booth. "It's not your fault."

He was surprised by her declaration. "Of course, it is," he argued, making an effort to hide his own emotions. His voice was flat and empty, resigned to trying to find a way to live his life without her.

"It isn't," the artist argued. Unlike him, her voice was confident in that truth. "And Brennan isn't going to die. I simply won't allow it to happen."

Next to her, Hodgins snorted. Knowing Angela as he did, she probably could keep Brennan alive just by wishing for it. All of them would.

Booth grabbed on to the woman's confidence like a lifeline. "I know she won't," he said, even though he didn't believe it. Belatedly, he wondered at what point he'd fallen to his knees.


	2. Amnesia

Four days, six hours, and twenty-six minutes after Cam's terrifying announcement, Brennan surprised them all by opening her eyes. The release of the tension was like letting the air from a balloon. For the first time in days, the entire team felt like they could take a deep breath.

The doctors and Cam were cautiously optimistic. Setbacks were always a real possibility, but Booth could read Cam this time. It was clear she thought the worst was behind them and Booth hoped she was correct.

It was dawn when Brennan opened her eyes, a moment of new hopes and new beginnings. Booth felt like he was coming out of a tunnel, the light at the end getting a little stronger with each moment that passed.

He'd lost count of the cups of coffee poured and thrown away. Of the empty reassurances from friends and colleagues that he'd ignored. There would be an inquiry into the shooting, but that concern was pushed into the background.

All that mattered was that Brennan was back with them. She would get stronger. She would heal.

Booth hoped he could eventually say the same for himself.

There was no sign of lasting trauma, at least not at first. Her friends visited Brennan in pairs, always under the watchful eyes of protective nurses, when they were allowed in at all. Dr. Brennan was still fragile, they said.

So was Booth. But his fragility was buried where no one could see it.

She knew all of them. Smiled weakly at them. Assured them, in her official scientific voice, that she would be okay.

Except for Booth.

"Amnesia is perfectly normal after a trauma," Sweets reassured him later. Booth had spent days chased by dreams and now her awakening hadn't ended the nightmare.

It had only changed forms.

"She remembers all of them, all of you, except me," Booth said coldly. Why was nothing ever easy for the two of them? "It's obvious she didn't lose years of memories, because if she had, she wouldn't remember Cam. Or you," he added, shooting a look at Sweets.

The truth of it was a bitter pill for him to swallow. He loved the woman with every fiber of his being and she didn't remember he even existed.

He'd been in war zones, and faced serial killers. But his heart would never again beat as hard as it did when she turned confused eyes to him.

"I don't know you," she'd said softly, her voice scratchy from the breathing tube.

Angela had turned to look at him and then at Brennan. "Sure you do, sweetie, that's Booth, your partner." Pressing her lips together, Angela didn't tell Brennan she was also in love with the man.

But Brennan had shook her head. "I don't think so."

"It's okay," Booth had said as he backed from the room. "I'll just come back a little later."

Only doctors and nurses ran in hospitals. Not Booth. He'd never run from a fight in his life.

But most battles had a plan, or at least the hint of plan. How do you battle forgotten memories?

"You're tied up with the trauma of being shot," Sweets explained, bringing Booth back to the present. "Her brain is trying to make sense of what happened and protect her from further pain. If she remembers you, she will have to face what happened. Her brain isn't ready for that. It's a coping mechanism, Agent Booth, nothing more."

"And how long will she need to cope before she remembers me?" he demanded.

The shrug was not the answer Booth wanted. "The brain is a funny thing, Agent Booth. There is little doubt in my mind she will remember, but whether that is tomorrow or next month is anyone's guess."

He nodded his head, collapsing into a chair. Leaning forward, Booth rested bent elbows on his knees, trying to find a way to calm his pounding heart. "I'm in love with her," he whispered. "How do I love her from far away? We were just finding our way to each other again. Now this."

Sweets reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder before pulling away. "While she might not remember you right now, Agent Booth, she will remember. What's important is that you are there for her."

"I don't exist for her. What am I supposed to say? Hey, Bones, I know you don't remember me, but we've been in love with each other for years? Except, hey, I went to a war zone, and brought back a girlfriend but she left and now you and I were finally having serious conversations about being a couple."

He could only imagine how she'd react to that declaration. Only the wounds would prevent her from running again.

Wiping at his eyes, Booth turned as Angela walked into the room. "She's sleeping," she reassured Booth. Despite knowing it would make him uncomfortable, Angela approached him and pulled him to her side.

Her sadness for the pair was so palpable, Booth was sure he could touch it, drown in it. But Angela had watched the two of them circle each other for too long to give up on them now.

It was going to be okay. There was no other option.

He allowed his head to rest against her stomach, looking for strength any place he could find it.

"Don't give up on her, Booth."

It was a sign of his terror that he didn't pull away from the embrace. "I never have."


	3. Funeral

"She wants to see you," Angela said to him, three days after Brennan woke. She was out of danger and had been moved to a private room. The doctors were talking about releasing her in a week or so, as long as she didn't go home alone.

A month ago, she would have gone home with him. Now, it would probably be Angela.

"Really?" Booth asked from his corner of the couch. It had been his home for the last several days, as the people Bones remembered paraded in and out of the room. He'd tried to go in only once, but had chickened out before making it through the door. He wasn't sure he could survive the blank look in her eyes when she didn't recognize him.

Angela nodded. "Go, Booth. You can't hide from her forever. When she does remember you, you don't want to explain why you ran away from her when she needed you the most."

She was right, he knew she was. Sweets had essentially said the same thing to him. He couldn't hide from Bones forever. As the blood had pooled beneath his fingers, he'd been sure the next time he saw her would be her funeral. Booth should be celebrating the fact she was still alive. The rest would sort itself out eventually.

But he was avoiding her. As much to guard his own heart as her health. He didn't want to upset her by forcing her to remember things she wasn't ready to face.

The more time that passed, the more he wondered if she ever would remember him. Or if his existence had become so tangled in her trauma that remembering would never come.

If forgetting him kept her nightmares at bay, was he willing to pay that price?

And was he willing to fight to get her to fall in love with him a second time?

He walked through the door to see Bones sitting in her hospital bed, an expectant look on her face. Covering his fear with sure steps, Booth crossed the room to her.

"Hey, Bones," he greeted, pleased that he'd kept his voice from shaking. "How are you feeling today?"

His voice soothed her. It was the only way she could describe the feeling. When the other visitors came to see her, she felt angry and unsure of herself. Her body flooded with adrenalin and only the tubes and wires kept her from backing away from them. They scared her, despite their shared history.

But this man, someone she didn't remember, gave her the peace she sought. He'd done nothing but ask her a question and something in her finally settled. Now, it felt like she could finally rest. He would keep her safe when her eyes were closed.

Which made no sense at all. She didn't remember him, at least not consciously. But he was an important part of her life, according to Angela. At least, that's what Brennan had deduced; Angela had not been very forthcoming with information.

And despite her failure to truly understand emotions most of the time, there was no denying the sensations that surfaced at just a thought of him.

"Don't call me, Bones," she replied, not sure where that comment had come from. "And I still don't remember you."

Booth's confidence faltered, and he stopped at the foot of her bed. She might not realize it, but Brennan seemed to remember that at one point, she hadn't really liked that nickname. "Do you want me to leave?"

Brennan noted the fear that flashed in his eyes before he covered it. Why did it bother her so much that she had put that look there? "Why are you afraid?" she asked.

No one would tell her much of anything. Angela told her she'd been shot, Cam just wanted her to get better and come back to work.

She wanted all of those things, too. But what she wanted most at that moment was the memories associated with the man in front of her. Didn't they realize not knowing was driving her crazy?

The shake of her head was immediate. "No, don't leave. I want you to answer my questions."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea right now," he said slowly. "The doctors said your memories will come back eventually."

"That's why you're afraid," she said, pleased with herself for figuring it out. "You are afraid I won't remember you."

He considered his options. Lie to her and let her remember on her own, or fill in the gaps as she discovered them. Sweets would have given him the better choice.

Instead, he had to rely on instinct. His Bones never would have condoned lying, so he went with the truth. "Yes, I'm afraid you won't remember me."

"Amnesia is rare," she explained, falling back on her science. It was what she relied on when she was uncomfortable or unsure of herself. "When I start to recall things, it will probably be the older memories first, before the newer."

Booth swallowed nervously. Great, the memory of their first case together would be the first thing she recalled of him. Would she remember the sexual tension or the feel of her hand connecting with his cheek? Or how about the time he had her arrested in the airport about a year after that?

He sighed and fought the urge to slump his shoulders. Her memories coming back in bits and pieces was almost worse than her never remembering at all. How would she interpret things when she didn't remember all the facts to begin with?

She tilted her head to the side and watched him. "I wanted to make you feel better, but it appears that I didn't." A small smile appeared on her face. "Why do I feel like that isn't the first time that's happened?"

He snorted, letting his guard down long enough for her to see he was amused. "You do that to me a lot," he admitted. "But that's okay. It usually worked out in the end."

Advice he was going to have to live by for the foreseeable future.

Brennan was tired, and sore. She could feel it all the way to her bones. But she pushed the feeling aside to ask him a simple question. "Will you sit with me awhile?"


	4. The End

_A/N: Thanks for the review. The chapters are short today, so you get two._

He considered her request for several heartbeats, before dragging a chair closer to the bed and sitting down.

There were still tubes and wires he had to avoid and her skin was painfully pale. He could see vague bruising above the hospital gown and wondered if he was responsible for some of it. The pressure he'd put on her chest to slow the bleeding should have broken ribs.

Her fingers were right there. So tantalizing close, the urge to touch them was practically overwhelming. Instead of following through, he fought it down. What was the protocol when you were in love with a woman who didn't remember you?

"Angela told me I was shot. That you saved my life," she said after Booth sat in the chair next to her. She wished he would take her hand, like her other visitors did, but he seemed to be doing everything in his power not to touch her.

"Yeah," he said. "I should probably - "

"It wasn't your fault," she interrupted, stopping the apology before he really began it.

"Do you remember?" he asked softly. What would it mean if she remembered the shooting, but still didn't remember him?

Blood, so much blood. There were times he caught himself wiping his hands on his pants, as if he could still feel it. There was a chance she would never remember the actual shooting.

He would never forget it. Another memory to add to the list of things he desperately wanted to erase from his mind and never would.

The apology was definitely required. He'd failed her in the worst way possible.

But she shook her head. "No, I don't remember any of it. The beginning or the end. But I know it wasn't your fault."

"How?" he croaked. Of course, it was his fault. If he'd only been a little quicker, walked in front of her a little bit more, he wouldn't be sitting in this damn hospital chair, praying she'd remember him.

Brennan was weary, her thoughts scattered, but she desperately tried to find the words to reassure the man in front of her. All her colleagues refused to tell her what Booth meant to her, besides the brief explanation of their partnership. But Brennan knew there was more to the story.

Apparently, no one was going to tell her until she figured it out for herself.

It was frustrating to know something, and not know it at the same time.

"Because you would do everything in your power to make sure I wasn't hurt. If you couldn't stop it from happening, no one could have."

His eyes filled, but he shook his head. "You don't remember me. You have no way of knowing that is true."

Leaning her head back against the pillow, Brennan fought the exhaustion for another moment. "Some things you just know, Booth."

"And," she continued, as her eyes closing in sleep, "I am never wrong."


	5. Lament

"If we only knew is a lament many people make," Hodgins said the following day.

"What the hell are you talking about," Booth snapped.

Hodgins looked embarrassed. "I think I read it in a poem once. I didn't mean to actually say it out loud."

"Lament? Who says words like that?"

"Probably only poets. But the sentiment works here. I can see you going over the what ifs, Booth. You will only drive yourself crazy. You know that."

And he did know it. But it didn't make it any easier for him to live with himself.

He'd spent the rest of the afternoon at Bones' side, watching her sleep. She woke when the nurses forced him to leave at the end of visiting hours. The look in her eyes had broken his heart, and despite her lack of memory, he bent over and kissed her on the forehead. "I will come back, Bones," he promised.

She'd nodded and closed her eyes again. Booth wondered if she would even remember the interaction today.

"What if she'd gone to interview that suspect on her own?" Hodgins asked. "There are times she went without you. The 'what if' game works both ways."

A shudder went through Booth at the thought of him not being there when she needed him the most. Perhaps Hodgins was right about that part.

The blood was on his hands again and he blinked hard to force the image away.

"What if she never remembers me?" Booth asked, giving voice to his darkest fear. "What if she leaves the hospital, goes back to work, and we have to start all over again?"

Hodgins shrugged, but didn't look overly concerned by the thought, which got Booth's attention. Pulling back his shoulders, Booth focused more intently on the man, waiting for him to explain.

"You love her, correct?" Hodgins asked rhetorically. A blind man could see what the agent felt for the scientist. "And she loves you. If she was scared of you and truly didn't remember you, she wouldn't have let you stay in that room while she slept. Somewhere inside, she knows she's safe with you. All you have to do is remind Dr. B. of her feelings. The rest will follow."


	6. Crucify

"Did we work a case where a corpse was crucified?" she asked him after lunch.

Feeling a surge of hope, Booth nodded. "Yes, it was part of a death metal group."

"I remember Dr. Sweets. We went to his office at the end of the case and asked him to dinner."

Again, Booth nodded. "Dr. Wyatt was cooking."

"I don't remember you," she said, and his hopes deflated. "But you were there. It's more of a feeling than an actual memory, but I know you were there."

Booth was surprised that was the first thing that reappeared from her subconscious. That case wasn't even close to one of the first they'd worked together. But that damn story about a broken plate had haunted him for months after.

"I thought you said the older memories would come back first?" he asked her.

"Maybe the stronger ones will come back first instead," she explained, refusing to concede the point. "The ones that made a more lasting impression."

Fighting to keep the grimace from his face, he nodded to indicate he understood. "This memory would definitely be one of those."

Her eyes narrowed as she chased the feeling. Brennan couldn't explain it to herself, but she knew it was important she remember him. If she didn't, he would gradually pull away from her until he was gone.

The thought was terrifying. How she wished someone would tell her exactly what the two of them meant to each other.

All she had to go on were vague feelings of contentment and safety and perhaps love. But did he love her like a sister or in some other way? And what difference did it make what he felt when she had no idea what hers were?

Brennan needed to remember. And not in pieces disconnected from each other.

"I was there," he confirmed.

Her blue eyes met his and refused to look away. "We shared something that was uncomfortable for both of us. A broken plate, the trunk of a car." She shook her head and the memory faded. Reliving her past abuse would not help her reclaim what she wanted. "I don't remember what you said to me."

It wasn't something Booth wanted to share, but if a little pain helped jog her memory, he could survive it for her.

"I talked about my grandfather. How he saved Jared and I," Booth explained, skipping the worst of it.

His voice was in her head. Behind a wall she couldn't find the door to. It was muddled and confusing, but she closed her eyes and pushed on that impenetrable wall anyway. Brennan had to find a way through.

Booth knew what she was doing and took a chance. Putting his hand over hers, he squeezed until she looked at him. "Don't force it, Bones. You'll hurt yourself. When you're ready, the memories will be there."

But there was one word, floating around in front of that empty wall and she grabbed it with both hands. "Suicide," she said suddenly.

His only reaction was a subtle tightening of the hand that held hers. "What about it?"

"You considered it," she said. Brennan was as sure of that fact as she was her own name. "Before Pops came along, you considered it."

Some of her memories were apparently going to resurface without her realizing it. Like the name he called his grandfather. "Yes, I considered it. That's what I shared that night."

"Jared is your brother. You didn't want to leave him behind. Just like you don't leave me behind," she said. Brennan was explaining it to herself, rather than asking for confirmation.

"I didn't tell you Jared is my brother," he said.

"Why do you do that?" she asked. "Why do you ignore the questions and comments that have anything to do with us?"

Rubbing a hand across his face, Booth considered his answer. "Because I can't tell you how to feel about me. It's something that you have to figure out on your own. I don't want there to ever be any question that I influenced you. You have to be sure. For both of us."

"So there is something more between us."

"There's always been more," Booth said. "It's defining what that is that's been the issue for us."


	7. Deaf

"Are you deaf, Brennan?" Angela demanded. "The doctor clearly said that you can't go home by yourself. You still get tired too easily. You need someone there to help you."

Angela, Cam, Hodgins, and Booth were in her room, trying to decide who she was going home with. The only one who wasn't speaking was Booth. The rest had been offering varying opinions for at least ten minutes, much to Brennan's annoyance.

Leaning against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest, Booth made his own plans. If he could persuade Angela to return to work, he could take some time off and spend the days with Brennan.

He worried about when her memories began to return, especially if it was the stronger ones that appeared first. No one had been there for the conversation outside of Sweets' office. Or the night in the bar following Hannah's rejection of his proposal. How would they explain what they knew nothing about?

"I'm not going home with you, Angela," Brennan said again. She loved her friend, but the thought of spending time in her home, with no place to escape her mothering, made Brennan want to relapse so she could stay in the hospital longer.

There was only one place she wanted to be. Despite the fact that it wasn't rational. But Brennan had a feeling that to reclaim what she lost, she was going to have to be a little irrational for a change.

Which didn't come naturally to her. Thankfully, stubbornness did. If being irrational didn't get her what she wanted, surely the other would.

A heavy sigh escaped Angela's lips. "Well, you aren't going home alone. So where are you going then?"

"With him," Brennan said, pointing at Booth.

He'd been barely following the conversation, trying to figure out other ways to see her without Angela and the rest of the Squints hovering over them. Now, he lifted his eyes from the floor and tried to catch up. "What?"

"I'm going home with you," Brennan said, not asking. She was telling all of them what she was doing. Brennan only hoped Booth would agree.

"With Booth?" Angela asked, clearly confused. "I thought you didn't remember him."

"I don't," Brennan said.

"How do you know he's not secretly as ax murderer?" Angela asked her.

"I'm standing right here," Booth said, clearly offended. That was all he needed. Angela would fill Bones' head so full of half truths, Booth would never clear everything up.

How did she know? Brennan wondered that herself. But she kept falling back on that contented feeling she felt whenever he was close. Booth was where she belonged. Brennan was sure of it. And she was going home with him, no matter what he said.

Booth looked around at the various faces and replayed the conversation he'd half listened to. "You want to go home with me?" he asked, shocked that would be her decision. "You don't know me."

She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a look at him he'd recognize anywhere. Booth would have an easier time moving this hospital than changing her mind.

"Yes, I'm going home with you. I don't remember your place, but I'm sure you have a bed I can sleep in and a bathroom I can use. That's enough."

One bed, one bathroom. Bandages that would need to be changed, hair that would need to be brushed. She could barely lift her arms over her head.

But she would be there, with him. No one watching over them while she fought her way back to full strength. He would always be there to clarify the memories she didn't understand.

"Of course, you can come home with me," he heard himself say. "But only if you're sure."

"Brennan, sweetie," Angela began, but trailed off when Brennan held up her hand. Angela looked to Hodgins or Cam for support, but the other two were watching Brennan closely.

Finally, Cam broke the silence. "I think that's an excellent idea, Dr. Brennan."

"You do?" Booth asked, shocked that she would support him on this one. But maybe it was Bones she was supporting.

"Yes, I think that's the best place for Dr. Brennan. I'll help you get everything you need, Seeley."

"Don't call me Seeley," he said automatically. "And I'd appreciate the help."

Brennan didn't try to hide the look of satisfaction on her face. "The doctor is planning to release me tomorrow. Is that enough time?"

"I'll be ready, Bones."

He only wished he knew exactly what he was getting ready for.


	8. Cliff

_A/N: A couple things..._

 _1\. Thank you for all the fantastic reviews. I appreciate them._

 _2\. This story has kind of taken on a life of its own, so if you're hoping it will be resolved in the next chapter or 2...sorry._

 _3\. Thank you for sticking with me._

"I think I fell in love with her the first moment I saw her," Booth said in the quietness of the chapel. Self-consciously he turned to make sure no one could hear the words. It was both a plea and a prayer, to whoever was listening, to help him find the strength to deal with what was happening to them.

"It was like falling off a cliff," he said with a little chuckle. "She was everything I didn't even know I wanted. Didn't know I needed. Science and sexy in one tidy little package."

From his pocket, Booth pulled Jasper the Pig and Brainy Smurf, turning them over in his hands. He'd retrieved them the first afternoon after she'd opened her eyes, before the nurses let him in to see her and everything changed. Now, unsure if she would understand their significance, he was afraid to give them to her.

"I'm not sure I'd still be alive if I hadn't walked into that room. The gambling or my own reckless nature probably would have ended up killing me."

"Her brains," he said, squeezing Brainy, "and her heart," he continued as clutched Jasper, "saved my life."

"Suicide is a sin and I won't take that step if I lose her, if she doesn't get her memory back and walks away from me. But there are so many ways to die in my line of work. A mistake made or a chance taken and we all know things can end badly. It will be hard not to take those chances if I don't have her."

"But I don't want you to think," he continued, still clutching the figures in his hand, "that I'm not appreciative of what you've done. No one, including me, thought she'd survive."

He wiped at his eyes and turned again, making sure he was still alone. "It's just that I want to ask for a little bit more. If she could remember even a little bit of what we were to each other, what we were becoming, it would be nice. I don't need all of it. Just enough - "

"To make her remember she's in love with you," Angela finished for him. Coming forward, she sat in the pew next to him, taking Jasper from his hand. She turned the figurine over and over again, hoping she hadn't made Booth angry by intruding.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, wondering if she'd heard it all and just hadn't revealed herself.

"Just the end," she said. "The part where you asked for just a little bit more."

"Think I'm asking for too much?" he asked, taking Jasper back from her.

"You're aren't asking for anything more than the rest of us," Angela reassured him. "If that God Bren doesn't believe in wasn't listening before, I'm sure He is now."

"I feel like I've asked for so much already. What if He decides He's given me enough and she doesn't remember?"

"But she already does, Booth. Just not in the way you're hoping for."

"You and Hodgins sure like to talk in riddles."

Leaning back in the pew, Angela stared straight ahead. "When we go in that room, Cam or Hodgins or I, Brennan talks to us, smiles as us, but doesn't trust us. She rarely closes her eyes and never sleeps unless the pain meds give her no choice. But even then, she fights it with whatever strength she has."

Booth shook his head. "But that first day you came out, you said she was sleeping."

"Only because the nurse gave her enough meds to fell an elephant. She doesn't trust us, Booth," she repeated. "Not like she did."

This time, she reached over and took Brainy from his hands. "That brain of hers, is all tumbled and jangled, remembering this and misremembering that. She might not remember you explicitly, but she remembers how it felt to be with you. Brennan trusts you to see her through this. Going home with you isn't a choice she'd make otherwise."

With a steady hand, Angela placed Brainy on the rear of the pew in front of them, so his plastic eyes stared at them both. "Brennan and you are fated to be together. And wars, or girlfriends, or amnesia are just stories you'll tell your grandchildren when you're both old and grey."

"Bones doesn't believe in fate." Even if he did. He'd always known, even when he couldn't admit it to himself, they belonged together.

"Or fairies, or elves, or prayers whispered in darkened chapels. But that's never stopped you before. It's time to man up and face what's coming, Booth, no matter what that is. You're the only one who can fill in the gaps of your history as the memories resurface."

Standing, she snatched up Brainy and offered it to him in her open palm. "Make sure you call me at least once a day and let me know what's going on. I'll try not to hover."

When he took Brainy from her hand, but didn't look up at her, she reached out and took his chin in her hand, forcing him to. Normally, it wasn't a move she would dare make, but these were desperate times. "She's unsure and unsteady. Don't give her any reason to doubt what you feel for her right now. Don't give her a reason to doubt what you've always felt for her. It will balance out whatever she remembers, good or bad."


	9. Float

"Maybe you could float me up the stairs," Brennan said. She stood at the bottom and looked up, towards where she assumed Booth's apartment was.

"I'll carry you," he said. placing her suitcase next to them.

She was ready to protest, but he scooped her into his arms before she had the chance.

"Comfortable?' he asked.

Hell, no, she wasn't comfortable. Her brain might not remember him, but her body surely did. And despite the fact that she was a long way from recovered, she couldn't stop the images of the man wearing a few less clothes.

"Yeah," she managed to choke out. "I'm fine."

She'd lost weight, he thought, as he carefully maneuvered his way up the stairs. But she was solid and alive. A few days of home cooked food would help.

He tried to carry into the bedroom, but she stopped him. "I've spent more time in a hospital bed than I care to think about. The couch will be fine for now."

So he carefully moved her until her feet touched the floor again. He helped her sit down, grabbing a throw from the back of the couch to throw over her legs. From her position on the couch, she watched him leave the apartment to retrieve her things.

It was odd, but she felt like she was home. She didn't remember the man, but Brennan knew if she dug around in the cupboard to the left of the fridge, there were some of the snacks she liked to eat. And in the back of the freezer would be a carton of her favorite ice cream.

Booth called Angela quickly while he was gone, to let her know they'd arrived back at his place. She promised to stay away until tomorrow, giving time for Brennan to settle in. Hurrying to grab her things, Booth ran up the stairs, not wanting to leave her alone for too long. The potential for trouble seemed endless.

Her eyes were closed as she relaxed on the couch, and Booth was sure she was asleep. Brennan opened her eyes as he closed the door behind him.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Go back to sleep. You need your rest."

She shook her head. "In a minute. Tell me a story."

"A story?" he echoed. "Like a bedtime story?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Tell me something about us."

He opened his mouth to argue, but Brennan beat him to it. "I'm sure it won't hurt. And it might help."

"Okay," he said. She was stretched out on the couch, so he sat in the chair at her feet. It was easier to see her face from there.

Brennan watched him patiently. After a moment, he thought of something he didn't think would lead to any upsetting questions. "I've got one."

"I'm sure you have more than one," she corrected. "But I understand the vernacular."

"It's not really a story. More of something we do together, a lot."

"Go on," she encouraged, even though her eyes were closing. She hoped it was a short story.

"We like to eat lunch at the diner together. I always order a little extra because you tend to steal things off my plate."

"Like your fries?" she said, her voice slurring as she fell asleep.

"Yeah," he agreed, knowing she wouldn't hear him. But those three words renewed his hope. The memories were clearly there and would come back in their own time. She remembered bits and pieces of this and that, like stolen fries and conversations had in offices.

Bones didn't remember the big things, yet. But he was sure she would.

And that's what worried him the most.


	10. Engage

"I'm worried about when she remembers Hannah," Booth said to Hodgins. The two men were sitting in the hall outside of Booth's apartment. Far enough way they wouldn't wake her, but close enough to hear her if she needed something.

Angela wanted to know what was going on, more than just the little information than Booth provided in the phone call, but didn't want to break her promise on not to hover.

So she sent Hodgins instead.

Reluctant to disturb them, Hodgins had finally realized he'd get no peace until he did as she demanded. Unlike Angela, he wasn't the least bit concerned about Dr. Brennan's well-being now that she was home with Booth.

She shouldn't have made it from the scene alive, say nothing about surgery, one of the doctors had admitted to him. Whether it was a miracle, or the shear force of Booth's determination that helped her to live, none of them were willing to say.

Maybe Dr. Brennan had a little bit to do with it, too. Her stubbornness was just as strong as his, and she would have fought just as hard.

Hodgins figured if Booth and Brennan could fight Death, and win, then a few lost memories weren't anything to be concerned about.

"If the memories come back the way they appear they are going to, disjointed and in pieces," Booth continued, "I'm going to have to explain some of the decisions I've made."

"And you have trouble explaining them to yourself, sometimes," Hodgins said. The scientist frequently wondered what took place between Brennan and Booth when everyone else was gone. If even half of the rumors were true, there were definitely some awkward moments coming.

Booth banged his head gently against the wall behind him. "I was almost engaged a couple of months ago. I told Bones…" Booth hesitated, knowing Hodgins had no idea what he was talking about. "Well…, I told her a lot of things I probably shouldn't have."

"Almost is the key word," Hodgins said. He was unsure how to provide the support Booth clearly needed.

"Then there was the stupid conversation in the bar that night. I'm sure that's the first thing Bones will remember," Booth continued, almost forgetting Hodgins was sitting next to him.

Partners, Booth had said to her. We can be partners and nothing else. Wouldn't the recall of that memory, without everything that had followed between them, be an interesting moment?

"What conversation?" Hodgins asked.

Closing his eyes, Booth refused to answer. "She's going to be fine, you know," Booth said. Unsure if he was reassuring Hodgins or himself he kept talking. "Earlier she remembered that she liked to steal my fries at the diner."

"And thankfully, you haven't forgotten you're in love with her," Hodgins pointed out.

Rolling his head to the side, Booth glared. "Was that some sort of joke?"

"No," Hodgins quickly denied. "No joke." He sighed and tried to explain. "Some men would have run from this, Booth. They would have found out the woman they loved had forgotten them and walked away. A convenient excuse, it would have been, but a lot of men would have walked."

"And you thought I would do the same?" Booth asked. His voice rose, echoing in the empty hallway. Did everyone, all the people he considered friends, think so little of him?

"No. Because as Dr. B. likes to tell us, quite frequently, you are a good man. Better than most. She's lucky to have you."

It was apparent to Hodgins the person struggling more here, was Booth. For whatever reason, he'd lost some of his famous confidence. Whether he was terrified Brennan wouldn't remember and walk away from him, or would remember just enough to walk away, Booth was having a hard time. Then there was the guilt from the shooting, Hodgins was sure Booth was dealing with as well.

The guilt, Hodgins could understand, considering the man Booth was. The rest, Hodgins was having a difficult time understanding. If Brennan had wanted to leave, she certainly wouldn't have gone home with Booth. And there was no way Booth would walk away from her.

Hopefully a few days of quiet time together would help them both.

Also resting his head against the wall, Hodgins straightened his legs and crossed them at the ankles. "How much do you know about our time in the car?"

"When you were buried?" Booth asked. He shrugged. "She told me some of it. Why?"

Keeping his eyes carefully focused on the open space in front of him, Hodgins let himself remember a time he tried his damnedest to forget most other days. "There was a point when we weren't sure anyone would get to us. Or at least I was at the point. The air was short, things were getting desperate."

Despite the circumstances, Hodgins found a smile. "I reminded her we were buried underground, and no one knew where we were."

"We were looking," Booth said. And threatening anyone who could help him find them.

"Looking isn't the same as finding, Booth. And let's face it, if we hadn't managed to hook that phone up, we'd probably still be down there. That's all it was. One crazy idea after another. She'd think of something, and then so would I. Without both of us…, well, that part doesn't matter now."

Staring at the closed door, Hodgins imagined he could see her sleeping on the other side. "I knew she was a genius before that day, but there was something about the way her mind worked. I think she will always be the smartest woman I ever know."

Suppressing the shudder, Booth hoped he got to the point quickly. He had a feeling he was going to have to relive enough painful things over the next week or so. This was one he should have been able to avoid, since he'd had very little part in it.

Reading his mind, Hodgins continued. "When I mentioned things were looking bad, she mentioned you. You were looking for her, you would find her."

His head shook as Hodgins remembered the strength of that belief. "She knew then you wouldn't give up on her. And she knows it now."

Also staring at the closed door, he knew Hodgins was right, but that wasn't the problem for him. He knew everyone else had faith in him to see this through.

Unfortunately, Booth didn't have that same faith in himself.


	11. Want

"Is there anything you want me to get you?" Booth asked later that evening. Brennan had woken from her nap and Booth was unsure of what to do to entertain her. Usually they could talk about a case or something they'd done together, but that option wasn't currently available. "I could go order delivery or something."

He was standing awkwardly in front of her, afraid to approach her or back away. He wanted to sit on the couch, pull her into his lap, and just hold on tight. Feel her breath. Never let go.

And she called him on his behavior. Which both did and didn't surprise him. Bones had never been afraid to question anything he did, but she usually didn't read people that well.

Without the memories of the awkward years between them, was it easier for her to see what he tried to hide?

"You could quit acting like that," Brennan snapped. She was tired of being stuck on a couch or in a bed, tired of people treating her like she was some sort of fragile thing that was going to break.

And she was especially tired of the man in front of her treating her that way.

"Like what?" Booth asked. He feigned confusion to see just what she was figuring out.

"Like you're afraid I'm going to break or-" she stopped abruptly, trying to articulate exactly what it seemed like.

"Or what?" he encouraged.

"Like you don't know me when it's clear you do. Like you don't know how to act around me. I might not clearly remember you, but I know you or I wouldn't be here. So treat me like you normally would or this is going to be a very uncomfortable few days." Brennan refused to consider it would take longer than that for her memories to return.

"Fine," he said, throwing up his hands. Nothing was going to be easy. He couldn't get too far away or too close. "I'm ordering Chinese. I know what you like and what you like to steal from me. The place up the street delivers. Then we'll watch television. And not one of your ridiculous documentaries either."

Attempting to hide her satisfaction at getting some sort of reaction out of him, she crinkled her nose at the thought of wasting time on tv. Concluding he probably wouldn't let her do anything else, she nodded. "The X-Files."

Booth froze with the phone in his hand. The request had come so naturally, it was apparent she had no idea what it meant. "You want to watch what?" he asked, sure he had misunderstood.

"The X-Files. That's not a documentary, right? I don't know why I would pick that one. It isn't something I'm familiar with. Do you know why?" she asked, turning confused eyes his way. He implied they should watch a show that wasn't educational. Brennan was sure she misremembered the title or something based on the look on his face.

Yes, he knew why. Their second case, after a year of her refusing to speak to him, at the conclusion of the first. When she'd stormed from the vehicle. He'd made some off-hand comment about spitting in his hand and becoming Mulder and Scully. Bones had no idea what he was talking about.

"Our second case," he said slowly, putting the phone back in his pocket. The smile that tipped up the corner of his mouth indicated his amusement with the memory. "I really wanted your help solving a case. You agreed, only if you were allowed into the field with me. I probably should have checked with the boss first, but," he shrugged. Booth had made plenty of decisions over the years without checking first. Ask for forgiveness, rather than permission, was a motto he frequently lived by.

"I said we could be Mulder and Scully, the characters from the show. You didn't know who they were. You got back in the SUV. We solved the case. The rest, as they say, is history."

"Who says?"

"I don't know, Bones. That's just what people say."

"That makes no sense. If people say it, then it should be because the statement is educationally valuable, which it clearly isn't since it can't be tied to a specific source."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Do you want food and the X-files, or not?"

She didn't remember that case, but accepted his explanation. "Will I like it?"

Booth snorted. "Probably not. Aliens, UFOs, and other crazy things that have nothing to do with science. There is a serial killer or two though. And one episode with a crazy family that still creeps me out."

Blue eyes stayed steady on his. "They why'd you suggest it that first day?"

"They were partners, they worked for the FBI. That's what you were asking to do."

They fell in love with each other, he added silently. They had a baby together. At the time, it wasn't what he was thinking, not really, but now? Now there were so many other inferences that could be pulled from the simple comment.

But given her exhausted state and the fact she was napping a lot, Booth figured it would be weeks before she made it to that part of the series. Tonight, she probably wouldn't make it past the first episode.

"It's on Netflix," he said. "We can watch it."

"Fine," she said, pleased that she'd found something they could do together. And intrigued by his description of their interaction, Brennan hoped she could get him to elaborate a bit more. "Order the Chinese and get the show started."


	12. Blizzard

The next morning it snowed.

"Is it a blizzard?" Brennan asked when she woke. "I hope you weren't planning on going to work. The city shuts down when it snows."

"I can't," he said without turning. "Well, I could," he clarified. "But I'd be on desk duty until the hearing from the shooting is complete."

"Tell me," Brennan demanded.

Booth's hand tightened around the curtain he was holding away from the window. "Tell you what?" he asked, praying it wasn't the shooting she was asking about.

That was one prayer he wasn't getting answered. "Tell me what happened that day."

"No," he said shortly, still refusing to turn. He wanted to pretend he wasn't hiding from those blue eyes of hers. "I'm not telling you."

"I'll probably never remember. While my amnesia is unusual, not remembering a traumatic event is actually rather common. I would like to understand what took place."

"And I'm still not telling you." He continued to stare out the window, but it wasn't the snow he saw anymore. It was a lone man, walking out of a run-down house with a gun.

And there was blood on his hands again.

Hearing her try to get to her feet, Booth finally turned. "Sit down, Bones."

Another time, she might have argued, but something in the tone of his voice had her listening. "I don't understand why you won't tell me."

"Seriously?" he snapped. "You don't understand why I wouldn't want to relive the moments you were shot?"

"But that's -"

His voice drowned hers out. "But why would you? It's not like you remember what it felt like when I was shot. What it feels like to have the blood seep between your fingers and soak into the clothes."

Wisely, she kept her mouth shut, knowing she'd pushed him too far. She regretted not being more specific. Brennan had wondered if they were interviewing or arresting a subject. Bringing up something like this had not been her intention.

She wasn't surprised to hear he'd been shot. The job they performed together was clearly dangerous. But at some point their positions had been reversed and she'd been the one trying to stop the bleeding.

Now wasn't the time to ask about it and it was too late to take back the demand to hear what happened to her. She'd simply have to wait for this metaphorical storm to blow over before she tried to talk to him again.

Booth's chest heaved at he fought with himself to regain control. "Christ, Bones," he muttered, running a shaking hand through his hair. "I thought I lost you."

No longer able to deny to himself that he was hiding from her, Booth turned back toward the window, not realizing she could see his face reflected in the glass.

There was pain there. Clear even to her. Most of the color had drained away, leaving his skin as white as the falling snow.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry," he scoffed. "I'm sure you are. But you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who screwed up."

In order to avoid driving his fist through the window glass, he turned and crossed his arms. "You want to know, I'll tell you. And then we aren't speaking of it again."

Brennan settled her hands in her lap and waited silently. She had a feeling there was very little she could say at that moment to relieve his suffering.

"A case," he said, not able to find the ability to speak in complete sentences. "An interview. Not even a suspect, yet. It was just an interview. I parked at the curb. You got out. A man, stepped out of the house with a gun. He shot several rounds. I shot once."

"You killed him."

"I killed him," he confirmed. "And turned in time to watch you fall."

Touching the bandages over her wounds, she desperately wished the memories would come.

"It was my fault. My job to protect you. I failed miserably. I don't know what you think about me, or what you think you remember about me, but you're wrong."

Gritting her teeth, Brennan forced herself to her feet. Walking felt like hell, and it forced her to approach him slowly.

Watching her, Booth wondered if she would ask him to take her to Angela. To a place that wasn't so full of emotions and things neither of them could face. Someplace she could heal in peace.

But, of course, she didn't. She'd always been the stronger one. A gentle hand was placed on his folded arm, providing support with just a touch. Brennan saw his eyes focus on her hand, but not on her. "I am never wrong," she said. Taking a deep breath was hard, and her voice was softer than she wanted it to be, but that didn't mean it was any less sure.

"I don't think anything. I _know_ that you would have stepped in front of those bullets if there had been time. I _know_ that you saved my life. I _know_ that you are blaming yourself, which is ridiculous."

Reaching up, he squeezed her hand before moving it away from him. "I can't," he whispered. "I can't do this. Relive this. Not even for you." His chest was tight and Booth felt like he couldn't take a deep breath.

"Then we won't. At least not right now." But Brennan knew he would have to talk about it with someone, even if it wasn't her.

"Not ever," he said. "Can you get back to the couch?"

"Of course," she replied, even if the thought of it was suddenly overwhelming.

"Good. I'm going to get dressed. Maybe take a shower."

Watching him walk away, Brennan started back toward her seat, but only made it as far as the chair before she was forced to sit down. Resting for a moment, she found the strength to force herself the rest of the distance.

She could hear the shower going behind her when she grabbed Booth's phone from the stand. Dialing a number from memory, she waited for Angela to answer, casting nervous glances toward the bathroom the entire time.


	13. Stoic

He stood in the shower a long time, pretending it was only water running down his face.

Blank eyes stared at the wall, as he replayed the shooting over and over again, like his brain was stuck on repeat.

Knowing he needed to check on her was the only thing that finally forced him from under the water. Given the choice, he might have stayed there forever.

Booth's features were stoic when he exited the bedroom to find Angela sitting in the chair at the foot of the couch.

Surprised, he wasn't. He fully expected Brennan to pack her bags and leave after he fell apart in front of her.

"Hey, Angela," Booth said.

"Booth." Her voice was cool and he could easily read her annoyance with him.

Ignoring both women, he went into the kitchen and pulled supplies from the refrigerator. "Do you want eggs for breakfast, Bones?"

The two friends looked at each other and Brennan nodded her head. She'd already indicated to Angela what she wanted done. "You need to go take a walk, Booth," Angela said. "I'll stay here for a while."

The carton of eggs hit the counter hard enough to break several of them. "Easier for you to pack her up that way?" he snapped.

Scooting down further into the couch. Brennan wrapped the blanket a little tighter around her. Angela had suggested the same thing, but she had no intention of going anywhere.

Booth needed her. The evidence was clearly on her side. Brennan knew she needed Booth as well. As long as she could prevent it, Brennan was not leaving this apartment.

"No," Angela said calmly. She'd practically insisted on it when she first arrived, but it quickly became apparent removing Brennan would cause more harm than good. The greater harm, Angela was starting to think, would be to Booth. "I think you need to get out of here for a few minutes and come to grips with reality."

"Screw reality." And he meant it. Screw reality, or fate, or the Easter Bunny. Whoever it was that kept throwing these stupid obstacles in their way. Test after test after test. When did he get to just fall in her arms where he belonged?

"Seeley Booth, in the hall," Angela commanded, speaking to him as if he was a ten year old who'd just taken a swing at his brother.

Laughing hurt, but so did fighting it, so Brennan closed her eyes and tuned out the conversation. Booth needed some time alone, she'd explained to Angela. Come over so he could leave. Perhaps take a walk or go speak to Sweets.

Retelling the conversation that started her morning didn't take long. And Angela had filled in the rest for her. After killing the shooter, Booth had called for help and kept pressure on her wounds. The blood loss was severe and no one thought she'd get out of surgery alive. While he blamed himself for the shooting, he'd saved her life.

Guilt was a hard thing to live with. Brennan hadn't just pushed that button, she punched it with both hands, even if it had been unintentional.

Booth turned and gave her a half smile that should have scared Angela to her toes. But she'd never been intimidated by the man and she certainly wasn't starting now. Getting to her feet, she pointed at the hall.

Knowing he was acting like an idiot and stopping himself were two different things. But he needed to get himself under control, so he stomped where Angela pointed.

Following him, Angela closed the door behind her. "You pull that shit again, and I'll kidnap her if I have to."

"Try it," Booth dared her.

Booth wasn't the only one who could threaten with a smile. "Don't think you can intimidate me like you do your suspects."

Taking the lack of response as a sign Booth knew she was serious, Angela continued. "I'm pretty sure I told you to man up. She asks a couple of tough questions and you fold like a tower of cards. What the hell, Booth?"

And just in case she wasn't pushing quite enough, she added a little more. "And she barely made it back to the couch, by the way. I can overlook the difficulty reliving the event for her, but I trust you to make sure she's okay. Leaving her standing in the living room while you run away is not what I expect."

"Go to hell, Angela," Booth said, but there was no anger behind it. Just an acknowledgement that she was probably right.

Sighing, Angela pushed down her annoyance with the man. She didn't want him to think she wasn't sympathetic to what he was going through, because she was. But Angela's first priority would always be to Brennan.

"I think that's the problem with men," Angela said. "You don't know how to let off some steam when it comes to your emotions. Women just cry their eyes out. I think I went through a whole box of kleenex before she woke up and half a second after she didn't remember you. I don't know what you do. Brennan hides in Limbo, I cry buckets. If none of those things work for you, find another one. But you need to do something for yourself, Booth."

He looked at his feet, the closed door and down the hall. His eyes drifted everywhere except toward Angela. "You'll stay?" he asked her finally. The words were mumbled and quiet. Booth was embarrassed by his behavior, but he knew the women were right.

"You'll come back?" she asked, not that she expected him not to. "How much time do you think you'll need?"

He looked down at his watch. "Couple of hours. I won't be able to go far with the snow." A destination already in mind, Booth knew he had to get his head back in the game, or Angela really would take Bones away from him.

"Go," she said, giving him a gentle shove. "She needs you, Booth. Go save yourself so you can save her."


	14. Steal

He didn't go to Cam or Hodgins or Sweets.

Not to work or to exercise.

Booth found Brennan's father.

Angela was right, and so was Bones. Booth assumed she'd called Angela as soon as he was out of earshot. She'd been right to do so. If he didn't talk to someone soon, Booth was pretty sure he was going to explode.

The last thing he wanted to do was lose it in front of Bones again. She needed him to be the rock right now, and he desperately wanted to be.

Max had come and gone while his daughter was in the hospital. Booth had avoided him, fearing the older man probably blamed him for his daughter being shot.

It seemed like an odd choice, but Max walked away from his family in order to save them. If anyone knew about dealing with guilt, he seemed like a good bet.

If Max was surprised to see Booth standing on his doorstep, he didn't show it. Instead, he held the door a little wider, welcoming him.

"Angela told me to go take a walk," Booth explained. "Bones asked me about the shooting and I kind of lost it."

"Wondered how long it would take you," Max said, handing him a drink.

"You expected me to fall apart?" Booth asked.

"You aren't Superman, Booth. And even he fell apart when Lois died. Reversed time and everything. If he's allowed to, why aren't you?"

Taking a healthy swallow of the drink, Booth barely managed to set the glass down before coughing. "What the hell is this?"

Max's eyes twinkled as he took a much smaller drink from his own glass. "Just a little something I learned to make. Might let you steal the recipe from me if you want it."

"Wow." Booth considered the glass, before pushing it away from him. "So how do I learn to live with it?"

"Is that what you're here for? Advice from a man who's seen and done it all?"  
"Yeah, something like that," Booth said. Deciding he was brave enough, he pulled the glass back to him and took a sip. He'd have to be careful or they'd find him frozen in snowbank tomorrow morning.

Swirling the liquid around in his glass, Max considered his words. "What could you control that day?"

It seemed like an odd question. Until Booth really thought about it. "Me," he answered quietly.

"So you couldn't keep the shooter from walking out the door?"

"No."

"Lock Tempe in the car?"

Another sip from the glass. And the ghost of a smile at the thought of locking his daughter anywhere. "No."

"How long did it take you to pull your own gun and shoot back?"

Hours. Minutes. "A heartbeat."

Max continued his rapid fire questions, not giving the man time to consider his answers. "And if it had taken longer than that?"

"I would have been shot," Booth said quietly. "She would have died. Maybe me, too."

Satisfied, Max took a drink of his own. "Called for help right after that, I'm guessing. Begged her to stay alive? Pleaded with God to keep her alive? Did your arms ache the next day, Booth, from the pressure you kept on those wounds?"

Booth traced the rim of the glass with his finger. "Something like that. The aftermath is kind of disjointed for me." He was pretty sure it had taken two other officers to pull him away from her so the medical staff could do their part.

"So tell me, Booth. What part of that could you have changed? What part of that are you feeling guilty for?"

"She's my partner. I'm supposed to protect her."

"And you did," Max said. "You killed the man who shot her and kept her alive until help got to you. How many other men would have made the shot you made considering what you were facing?"

One shot, exactly as he'd said to Brennan. One shot was all it had taken him to eliminate the threat. One shot, one heartbeat and it was all over.

"If I thought for one minute it was your fault, that you had caused my Tempe to be hurt, I'd kill you for it," Max threatened. "The fact that you're still breathing should tell you what I think."

Another drink and Booth pushed the empty glass from him. Max did have a tendency to eliminate the threats to his children.

Having his life threatened shouldn't have made Booth feel better, but it did.

Some of the guilt and fear he'd been living with drained away and Booth finally felt like he could breath again. "Thanks, Max."

If it was only the guilt he had to live with. There was also the constant fear that his explanations to her broken memories wouldn't be good enough and she would run away from him again. And he'd be lucky if she even told him where she was going this time.

"I'll be over later this week to see you guys." Max stood and slapped Booth on this shoulder. "No one else blames you, Booth. It's time to stop blaming yourself."


	15. Adore

Feeling a little lighter, Booth stopped on the way home and picked up flowers. Then put them down and bought her a plant instead. Knowing her, there would be some scientific reason owning a plant was better anyway.

Max had relieved some of the guilt that had been weighing him down, but not the worry. Bones had a tendency to misinterpret a lot of emotions. She would never make sense of all that had taken place between them. Hell, Booth couldn't even make sense of it at times.

All he could do was be there for her, for them, and hope whatever explanations he offered were enough.

He smiled as he opened the door. Brennan looked up at him and returned the smile, immediately seeing some of the stress he'd been under had lessoned.

Unfortunately, she could also see the worry he still carried. She knew most of it was because of her and while she didn't pray, Brennan did hope her memories returned soon.

Sending a look toward Angela, Brennan offered a smaller smile and nodded her head. She and Booth would be okay, for the moment.

"I bought you a plant," he said, holding it out in front of him.

Brennan's head snapped back to him and the plant he was carrying. "Plants help clean the air," she said, but her voice was clearly distracted.

Eyes narrowing, she stared at the plant. It was a gift. Little things he gave her that would have meant nothing to everyone else, but were everything to her. Things she adored.

"Where are they?" Brennan asked.

Setting the plant on the counter, Booth came forward. "Where are what?"

Clearly agitated, Brennan kept moving her eyes around his apartment. "I don't know," she said.

Angela had been packing her things to leave, but stopped and stared at her best friend. "It's okay, Brennan. Don't worry about it now."

"No," Brennan said. She was close to tears. "I don't know what they are, but I want them."

Tear filled eyes turned to Booth, begging him to help her figure this out. Her frustration was clear and he ached for her.

"I'll help you," he promised. "Let me walk Angela out."

"I think I should," Angela tried to say, but Booth grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. She wasn't staying. Booth could handle this.

"We're okay, Angela. We'll see you tomorrow."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but recognized that something had changed. Giving Brennan one more unsure glance before turning back to him, she said, "If you need me again-"

"I'll call," Booth said.

Almost shoving her out the door, Booth turned and came back toward Bones. Grabbing the plant, he set it carefully in her lap and knelt next to her.

"Quit trying to force it, Bones. We'll get it."

"The plant triggered it," she said, fingering the leaves. "Something about the plant."

And Booth knew what she wanted. The plant was a gift.

"I have them," he said, not explaining further.

Jogging into the bedroom, he opened the drawer where Brainy and Jasper had been living since he'd stopped carrying them in his pocket. Taking them into his hand, he sat next to her on the floor and placed them in her lap.

"Brainy," she said softly, her breath catching in something between a laugh and a sob.

"And Jasper," Booth supplied, not sure if she remembered the pig's name. "Do you remember why I gave them to you?"

"No," she said, tracing a finger down Jasper's back. "But I know they are important to me."

Booth hummed an agreement. "I brought them to the hospital, but then when you didn't remember, I brought them here."

Her finger continued to trace down Jasper. There were so many things she wanted to know. Questions she knew he'd refuse to answer.

"How long ago did we meet?" she finally asked. The question seemed safe enough.

Typical Brennan to make a leap like that and assume everyone else kept up. "Six or seven years ago. Why?"

But she shook her head and refused to answer. "Were we sleeping together?"

Shocked, Booth was glad he was already sitting on the floor next to her. "Why do you ask?"

Because she was trying to make sense of what she felt from him and for him. Because the little gifts and the images that were seeping beyond the vast wall blocking her memories made her think they had been more than just work partners.

He made sure she was well rested and fed. Naps were encouraged. He brushed her hair after a shower and waited just outside the bathroom door to make sure she didn't fall.

Being friends was one thing. Even with her limited experience, what he was doing for her appeared to go way beyond that.

Blue eyes met brown and she dared him not to answer with just a look.

"No," he said finally, "we weren't sleeping together."

And then answers like that made her think she was misreading the whole situation.

"Bones, listen, you can't make assumptions based off questions and answers like that. We have a history, a rather complicated one." Finally breaking the stare, he looked down at her lap, to the gifts resting there.

"What you're remembering, the bits and pieces that come back, add up to us. But taken separately," he let out a humorless laugh, unsure of how to explain, "let's just say that taken out of context, those things will look very different."

Reaching forward, he took the figurines back from her and debated over what he was about to do. "Jasper," he said, returning it first, "was because you wanted a pet pig as a child. This was the closest I could come."

Balancing Brainy in his open palm, he continued. "Brainy was to always be true to yourself. Smurfette was shallow."

"I have my looks and a whole lot more," Brennan added, taking Brainy from his hand.

Smiling, Booth nodded. "Exactly." Rising quickly, he took the plant from her lap. "I'll water this and put it in the window."

She nodded and clutched Brainy and Jasper in her hands, considering what he'd said to her and what she was remembering.

Brennan knew what his lips felt like, pressed to hers, but didn't know why.

There was a blonde, a woman Brennan felt was both friend and enemy, she didn't recognize.

Gifts, for reasons she couldn't remember, that clearly indicated he knew her quite well.

But he hadn't been lying when he said they hadn't slept together.

Why wasn't that a step they took?

So maybe they'd loved each other and maybe they hadn't. What she felt for him now could be a memory or a new reality.

Maybe he loved her then, but didn't love her now.

But there were all those little things. Was he doing them out of pity, a sense of obligation because he blamed himself for the shooting?

Closing her eyes, she felt tears run down her cheeks, but didn't make the effort to wipe them away. Brennan wasn't sure what she was crying about anyway.

Brainy and Jasper were still clutched in hand, despite the fact she'd fallen asleep, when Booth finally came out of the kitchen. He stood and stared a long time, wondering about the dampness on her cheeks.


	16. A Close Shave

"You are very lucky, Agent Booth," the investigator said. "Several more shots and things would have turned out very differently for the two of you."

"Yes, sir," Booth replied. He just wanted this formality wrapped up so he could go back to Bones. It was obvious no one was blaming him for what happened, and he was working on no longer blaming himself.

"This report will clear you to return to work," the agent continued. They'd been introduced when Booth entered, but his name was forgotten as soon as Booth heard it. "How is your partner?"

"Recovering, sir," Booth said. Specifics didn't really seem necessary at this point.

"I'm glad to hear that." The file was closed with a slap and the fellow agent leaned back in his chair. "It was really a close shave for both of you. Are you taking some time off?"

Booth adjusted his tie and tried to hold on to his patience. How he hated the song and dance required after something like this. "Yes, sir, at least until Dr. Brennan is better."

"Well," the agent finished, finally standing and holding out his hand. "I'm glad everything is going to work out for you."

"Me, too, sir," Booth said. Without a backward glance, Booth escaped from the office and headed for his own.

It took much longer than he expected, with fellow agents and colleagues stopping him every few feet. A shake of the hand here, pat on the back there. At the rate it was going he wouldn't make it back to his office until dinner.

Finally he closed and locked the door behind him, shutting the shades as well. He slumped into the chair at his desk, letting loose a relieved sigh at being alone. Booth wasn't sure he'd ever be here again, other than to pack up his things. If Bones had died…but he chased the thought away. She hadn't and she wasn't going to.

Forcing himself to his feet, he packed a few files he would work on at home, including some reports he'd been ignoring. Glancing around the office, Booth wondered when he'd be back again; it wouldn't be until Brennan could stay by herself at the earliest. Which, at the rate she was healing, probably wouldn't be that much longer.

And that opened up a whole new pile of problems. If she didn't remember, would Bones still want to go home in a week or two? How about if she did remember him. There was a chance she'd want to go home then, too. So at this point, no matter what way he looked at it, Bones was leaving his place in about two weeks.

If tying her to the couch was the only option that would keep her in the apartment, Booth was more than willing to take that step.

Her screams might get annoying to the neighbors, though.

A photograph in the back corner of the office caught his attention. Crossing the room, he picked it up. He and Brennan were smiling, arms thrown around each other. Angela had taken this photo at the conclusion of a case about two years ago. It was before the night at the Hoover, the nine months apart and Hannah. It wasn't long after his surgery, when Booth had been positive he was finally going to take that step with Bones.

Except it hadn't turned out quite the way he pictured, and two years later, they were still circling each other, faced with the same problem.

What happened when the person you loved the most, the person you would always love the most, was afraid to take that final step with you? Was it possible to live half a life with someone else? But he knew the answer to that question, Hannah had proven that. It was possible to live that way with another, but the question now was, did he really want to if Bones left again?

Clearly, she was remembering things. Some came back as feelings, others in chunks. Booth also had a feeling there was more than what she was admitting to and figured that was why she asked about their history, or lack of history when they'd talked last night.

No, they hadn't slept together, but it wasn't because he didn't want to, hadn't spent countless nights fantasizing what being with her would feel like. They'd simply never been ready for each other at the same time.

Until now, before this shooting that had wiped out her memories of him.

It worried him, those things she wasn't asking about.

Deciding to take the photo with him, he tossed it into the bag with the rest. Maybe he'd give it to her, maybe he wouldn't. Booth was hesitant to do anything that might push her to feel one way or another toward him.

She had to be sure, he'd said to her. And she did. If there was ever a question or a doubt that he'd pushed her toward something, any relationship they managed to forge wouldn't survive it.

Booth desperately needed her to remember and be sure of her feelings. He already was.


	17. Threat

"Anything going on in the Lab?" Brennan asked Hodgins. She was getting tired of the parade of babysitters that showed up every time Booth needed to leave the apartment. A couple hours to herself, with no one hovering, sounded like heaven.

But making sure she was well taken care of made Booth feel better, so she continued to allow them to come. She'd let Booth have this one.

At least for a few more days. After that, she'd lock herself in the bathroom, just to get some time alone.

"Sick of people coming to hang out with you?" Hodgins asked, correctly reading her thoughts. And it gave him an excuse to ignore the question she'd asked him.

"Never you, Dr. Hodgins," Brennan said honestly. "After being buried in a car with you for what came pretty close to being an eternity, I think I can spend a few hours in the daylight with you."

But before the mood turned somber, she flashed him a small smile. "I know you are trying to avoid the question. What is going on at work?"

"Nothing," Hodgins answered a bit too quickly. There was plenty going on at work, but he was under strict instructions not to tell her any of it. "How are you feeling?" he asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

The look she gave him was remarkably similar to the look she gave her interns when they disappointed her.

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he shook his head. "Angela threatened my life if I talked about work."

"She's not here and we are. Conversing about work is not going to make me have a relapse. In fact, I am recovering quite nicely." Unbeknownst to Booth, Brennan had many of the same concerns he did. When she was finally well, or well enough to stay on her own, would he expect her to leave. Or, if she admitted to her growing feelings for him, would he allow her to stay? Did it really matter what had come before if she fell in love with him now?

Maybe love was just a combination of chemicals. Maybe her shooting had caused her to form an attachment to Booth that wasn't normally there.

And maybe she was looking for excuses to avoid what she was feeling right now.

Booth had saved her life when she was shot. A few other times, too, if what Brennan was piecing together was correct.

What would he do if she fell into his arms for a different reason?

Would he catch her, or let her fall?

Hodgins watched her with a curious expression on his face. "Are you okay, Dr. B?"

Brennan blinked and looked at him. It was common for her to ignore personal questions, and she used that habit to her advantage now. "I would like to hear about what's going on at work. I find it hard to believe that everything is going smoothly without me."

Amused, Hodgins let her change the subject. Angela would tell him later that Brennan was avoiding something and Hodgins would be forced to agree.

"I know that you aren't supposed to tell me anything, Dr. Hodgins. But I'm sure just this once, you could keep it to yourself."

Could Hodgins keep a secret from Angela? Probably not. Nor could he deny the woman looking at him expectantly.

"No one is really filling in for you. We fully expect you to be back, probably before the doctor tells you it's okay. We have a case, Clark is assisting for the moment."

"He is very skilled at his work thanks to me." But she couldn't stop the look of concern that crossed her face. "I am quite eager to get back to work."

"The new case came in yesterday. Cam's running interference. Angela doesn't like the new agent from the FBI subbing for Booth. She's also have a hard time working with Clark." Hodgins left out the amusement he was getting from watching their interactions.

"I'll be back," she reassured him. "So will Booth."

Knowing she'd come close to dying, having her come back to work was more than any of them dared wish for.

"I figured you'd ask about a case, so I brought some notes," Hodgins offered. He pulled some folded papers out of his pocket. Then reached into a second and a third pocket, pulling out a bunch more. "I had to sneak them out so no one would catch me."

"You are a good friend, Hodgins," Brennan said. She held out her hand.

"Just don't tell Angie," he begged, reluctantly handing them over.


	18. Answer

Bones seemed like her old self after Booth returned home, at least until dinner. Turning oddly quiet, she pushed the dinner he'd made for them around her plate. It was clear she was working through something and he hoped she would simply ask.

When it became apparent she wasn't going, Booth excused himself to take a shower.

And waited for her to work up the courage.

She hobbled into the bathroom not long after he stepped under the water.

"You okay, Bones?" he asked.

"You let me think you were dead?" she asked. "For two weeks?"

"Shit," Booth muttered. Why couldn't she remember the happier times they'd spent together? Or have everything come back at once instead of these bits and pieces that just led to more trouble for them.

"I think I should probably get out of the shower for this, don't you think, Bones?" He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, knowing she would misunderstand it. One wrong move and he still feared she would be at Angela's.

The slamming of the door behind her was the only answer she gave.

Taking it as a yes, Booth hurried to finish before pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He'd finish later, after he straightened this latest mess out.

Brennan sat on the couch, a pile of papers spread around her. He wondered where those had come from. Despite the look, it was clear she wasn't actually working on any of it.

Moving some of it, he sat in front of her and waited until she looked at him.

Her eyes were wet and Booth reached forward to brush at the tears. "It isn't worth crying over now," he said softly.

But she shook her head. "When the memories come back, sometimes it's as if whatever I remember just happened yesterday. This one hurts," she admitted softly.

Not much had changed with Bones, even with the loss of her memories, other than this. Her feelings, which she might have kept from him before, were something she no longer felt the need to hide. If she was angry, or confused, or sad, Bones told him.

And she was always her brutally honest self when she did it.

"So you've remembered other things?"  
"I think so. Sometimes it's hard to tell because I don't realize I'm remembering. The thoughts and memories just appear without me really thinking about it."

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure exactly what he was apologizing for. The pain she was going through now, or what she'd gone through then.

"You were shot, like me," she began, sorting through what she remembered. "By a woman, I think. It's what you were talking about the other day, when I asked about my shooting. You said I didn't remember when you'd been shot so I couldn't understand what you were going through."

He hadn't had time to shave and his chin was rough as he ran a hand over it. "That's what I was talking about. Pam Noonan. She's the one who shot me."

Brennan's eyes took on a far away look. "I killed her," she said plainly, "to save your life."

Again, Booth nodded.

"I should probably feel bad about that, but I don't." Her head tilted. "They told me you died at the hospital. You died saving me."

Her voice trailed away as Brennan realized she was right about some of conclusions she was drawing. She wasn't sure what she felt for Booth, but Brennan was starting to think he'd felt more than just friendship for her several years ago. Brennan still wasn't sure about now.

It should have been terrifying, knowing what he might feel for her. But it wasn't, making her wonder if that meant she'd known it before the shooting. There seemed to be a lot to the story of the two of them that no one wanted to tell her and she was having a hard time making sense of it with the disjointed memories.

"I didn't die," Booth said. "Obviously. My death was faked for the FBI. You were supposed to be told, but apparently Sweets crossed you off the list." Reaching forward he took her hands in his and squeezed them. "It was a stupid thing, really. I should have just called you myself instead of trusting Sweets."

Another memory clicked into place. "Because he thought I could compartmentalize your death. It was an experiment."

"Wait, what?" Booth asked, his eyes growing dark. He pulled his hands away before he squeezed hard enough to break the bones in hers. "It was an experiment?"

"Of course it was," she confirmed, not realizing she just spilled something Booth hadn't been aware of. "He wanted to see how I'd react to you no longer being alive."

"I'll kill him," Booth said. Shoving off the couch, he stalked to the kitchen to find something to drink. Beer didn't seem strong enough, so he twisted the cap from the bottle of whiskey and poured a healthy portion into a glass. Downing it, he rested his hands on the counter, keeping his back to Brennan.

She could see his tension from across the room. "I forgave you then and I do now, Booth. If that's what you're worried about. I always knew psychology was a soft science," she muttered reaching for the papers Booth had moved.

Not understanding why Booth was so upset, she tried to focus on the words in front of her. Since they apparently still worked together, they had managed to work through the issue. It seemed impractical to get upset over it again, now that the initial shock had passed.

After several minutes, Booth still hadn't moved and Brennan put the papers aside again. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, her voice loud in the silence.

Not trusting his voice, Booth shook his head. "No," he managed to utter. "You didn't do anything wrong."

This memory hurt Booth, too, and she had unknowingly just made it worse.

Booth might have been able to use the mask to hide the anger in his face, but his abrupt movements as he crossed the living room gave him away.

"Booth?" she called after him.

Stopping with his hand on the doorframe of the bedroom, he didn't turn. "What?"

"Look at me," she demanded.

A simple request he wanted to ignore, but he could deny her nothing. So despite the red haze that blinded him, he turned to see her blue eyes looking steadily at him. "If you didn't kill him then, it's not worth it now."

Make that two things that were different about his Bones. Not only was she more honest about her own feelings, she could read his better as well. "Apparently, there are some things that you didn't share with me then." Without waiting for a response he made sure the door was securely closed behind him as he went to finish his shower.

Knowing there was no hope of getting any work done now, she pushed the papers away from her again.


	19. Whirl

_I must thank everyone again for the amazing reviews I've received._

Sweets was sitting at his desk when Booth walked in the following day. This time Cam was at his apartment. Instead of coming empty handed, she'd brought a case file from New York City.

"What are you doing?" he'd asked as one of his oldest friends unpacked the file.

"I imagine Dr. Brennan is getting a little restless, with nothing to look at. I brought one from my old job I thought she might find interesting. Plus some x-rays."

"You and Hodgins both have similar ideas apparently.  
"I knew he was spending too much time at that copy machine," Cam said with a groan.

"She still gets tired easily," Booth warned.

Cam rolled her eyes. "Get out, Booth, before I think you don't trust me enough to take care of her."

So Booth had left and come to find Sweets.

"Agent Booth, how's Dr. Brennan?" he asked, before getting a good look at Booth's face.

The younger man was happy there was a desk between them.

"You experimented on us." Booth punctuated the sentence with the sound of Sweets' door slamming.

"Dr. Brennan is regaining her memories, that's wonderful," Sweets said, trying to focus on the positives.

"She's remembering things, that's for sure. Including some things I didn't know."

"Yes, I did," Sweets admitted, knowing the time for lying had long passed. "I make a mistake and did something I'm not proud of. Dr. Brennan felt that in order to save my life, we should keep it secret from you."

Booth paced the length of the room. Back and forth, back and forth, trying to find a place, a way, to vent his anger. His thoughts whirled from Bones to Sweets and back again.

"Makes you wonder what else you're going to find out, doesn't it?" Sweets asked quietly.

It was so easy for Booth to turn his anger toward him. "What else have you kept from me?"

"Nothing," Sweets said, holding up both hands in surrender. "Nothing that comes to mind, anyway. It's just," he gestured vaguely with his hands, "Dr. Brennan isn't going to know what you don't know. Does that make sense?"

The pacing stopped long enough for Booth to agree before it started again.

"She may tell you things you know nothing about. And how you react is going to be important to her mental health, Agent Booth. And yours as well."

"There is nothing she can tell me that will drive me away."

"She doesn't know that. I think she senses it, but she doesn't know it. It's our job to make sure Dr. Brennan continues to feel that way."

"I am so sick of getting the same advice from everyone," Booth complained. "Be there for her, answer her questions, don't make her doubt you."

"I guess we're hoping one of these times you actually listen," Sweets said.

"I am listening."

"Listening and hearing are two different things, Agent Booth." Twirling a pen in his hand, Sweets tried one more time. "It must be terrifying to know she has so much faith in you when you continue to have so little in yourself."

This time, the slam of the door punctuated his exit.


	20. Slave

_A/N: Sorry the last one was a little short. Hopefully this makes up for it._

Booth took his coat off, the door barely closed behind Cam, when Brennan pointed at the corner of the couch.

"I have questions," she said, pulling out a sheet of paper.

Giving the sheet a nervous glance, he sat where she indicated and pulled her feet into his lap.

"Mmmm, that's nice," she hummed when he started rubbing. "But you aren't going to make me forget my questions."  
He flashed a smile. "Wasn't my intention," he denied, even though it was.

"We'll start with an easy one, I think. Who's Parker?"

"My son," he responded immediately. "He really likes the pool at your apartment."

Which explained the little boy swimming with them.

Booth tried not to laugh when she checked off the question on her list. "Let me look at it," he said, grabbing for it.

"No," she said, pulling it away from him with a laugh. "Question two, why do I keep remembering an exploding refrigerator?"

"Is this some sort of strange test where the questions get a little harder each time?" he asked with a grimace.

She tilted her head. "I thought that one was easy. Or funny. It's an exploding refrigerator. I assumed it was one of the unfortunate lab experiments."

With a deep breath, he fought to keep his voice level. "Someone tried to kill you, but missed when I opened it to get a drink." He was tempted to get up and play their song, just to see what would happen.

"Oh," she said. The laughter faded from her face. "Were you injured badly?"

"Bad enough. Listen, Bones, how much do you want me to tell you here?"

"All of it." She reconsidered her answer. "Or some of it. There are a lot of questions on this sheet."

"Remembering quite a bit, are you?"

"Yes, but it's very disjointed. You told me to ask and not make assumptions."

Figured this was the time she actually followed the advice he gave her.

He nodded solemnly. "When I was in the hospital you were kidnapped. By the man I thought was going to protect you. Hodgins and I got there just in time."

"Just in time for what?"

His eyes were dark and fathomless as he stared at her. "To save your life."

"How many times have you saved my life?" she asked quietly.

He smiled, but there was no humor. "About as many times as you've saved mine."

Brennan broke the stare to look down at her list again, trying to regroup. Finally, she looked up again, confusion making her forehead wrinkle. "You said you were in the hospital."

"I left," he explained simply. "When I saved you, you took me back."

Realizing what all of the questions may end up costing him, she suddenly crumpled the paper and tossed it across the room. Maybe she didn't want her memories back if they all led to stories like this. "I find I no longer want to ask any questions."

"You don't have to protect me, Bones."

Of course, she did. She'd never been a slave to her emotions, but Booth pulled at her in a way she didn't expect. "When I sleep," she said, ignoring his comment, "I dream of a wall. The wall is grey and on the other side, are all the memories I don't have yet."

He continued rubbing her feet, content to listen to her talk for the moment.

"I find the whole imagery ridiculous, but apparently some part of my mind isn't listening."

"Is that all it is, a grey wall?"

"There's a door with a lock and no key." She sighed and rubbed at her chest distractedly. "I feel like there's something I have to decide, something I have to figure out before the key will appear."

"Then you'll figure it out," he reassured her. Booth found his attention drawn back to the crumpled paper in the corner. "Are you sure you don't want to ask me more questions?"

"I don't want to hurt you," she confessed. "I feel like we don't have a lot of memories that are happy. It makes me sad when I make you sad."

She hated the look that came into his eyes when she asked him a question about something painful. And with no history, even questions she thought were funny turned out to be something entirely different.

An exploding refrigerator turned into a story about Booth having to save her life again, not even close to the way she thought it would go. Who knew where the other questions would lead.

Brennan felt protective of him. She was tired of asking questions and seeing the look on his face when he was forced to answer.

Booth watched her, as the expression on her face softened and became more serious again. "We have a lot of happy memories, Bones."

Blinking, she tried to refocus on the conversation. "Name one," she challenged.

His hands didn't falter as he continued to rub her feet. Much longer and she was going to relax so much, sleep would be unavoidable.

"Lunch at the diner, coffee on the National Mall, Christmas gifts, drinks and take-out after cases. Our everyday life is happy and wonderful, Bones." His eyes took on a distant look as he thought about the various things she couldn't remember. "Spending time with you is the bright spot in every one of my days."

He stopped rubbing and looked directly at her. "I've made some mistakes when it comes to us, Temperance." Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts aside. "When you remember, you'll understand."

Narrowing her eyes at the use of her first name, Brennan pulled her feet back and moved closer to him. "You're worried," she said.

Booth knew he should lie and stop this conversation, but he couldn't. "Yes, I'm worried."

"About one memory in particular or several?"

She observed him press his lips together, an indication of his tension. He glanced again at the paper tossed in the corner before answering. "Why do I have a feeling a question about those memories is written on that paper?"

"When did this memory, or memories you are worried about take place?"

"A while ago," he replied vaguely. Booth was unsure how to explain any timeline involving then night outside Sweets' office and Hannah.

With gentle fingers, she traced lines up and down his arms. He wore short sleeves and she watched fascinated as his skin reacted to her touch. "Then it doesn't matter."

Reaching up, he trapped her hand under his. "How can you say that when you don't remember?"

"Because I still trusted you enough to be your partner and your friend. What I feel for you, or felt for you," she paused, unsure which tense was the correct one, "meant that we'd worked through all of it. I'm not saying it wasn't painful, but we were still together in some capacity, correct?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, "we were together, as partners," he clarified.

"If the memories, no matter how painful, didn't cause me to walk away the first time, I won't walk away now, Booth. So asking questions about things, and forcing you to relive them, is something I simply choose not to do."

"The memories will come, Booth," she said. "Just give me a little more time."

"I'd give you forever if you asked me to," he whispered.


	21. Lick

_A/N: I'm glad everyone is pleased with Brennan. Our favorite hero is still having some issues unfortunately…_

After making sure she got to bed that night, Booth's attention was continuously drawn to that damn piece of paper still crumpled in the corner.

Sure, she'd said the memories didn't matter, but for Booth they did. And his curiosity was getting the best of him. Wanting to know exactly what she was remembering was going to drive him crazy.

So he waited. And waited. Booth waited until he was sure Brennan was asleep before he dragged himself from the couch and grabbed that paper.

Holding it for several minutes, he tried to talk himself out of what he was about to do. It was an invasion of privacy, looking at this list. If she had really wanted him to know all she was remembering, Brennan would have asked him the questions.

She wanted to protect him; that part was apparent. So he shouldn't be doing something Bones clearly didn't want him to do.

All logical arguments that made perfect sense. None of which were good enough to talk him out of it.

The crinkled paper sounded so loud in the quiet apartment, Booth was sure it would wake her. But that was only his guilty conscience talking.

He smoothed it with shaking hands, before using the flashlight from his phone to illuminate it.

Question one and two were the ones he'd answered. Next to the words exploding refrigerator, she'd written a star. Apparently, she'd assumed this question would lead to a funny story and not to the other things they'd discussed.

Next to the number three was a single word: Christmas. It was so general, Booth had no idea what she was referring to. The Christmas he kissed her under the mistletoe so she could spend time with her family seemed the most logical. He wondered if what she remembered counted as happy or sad?

A small smile appeared on his face as he thought about the fantasies that kiss had generated. He was pretty sure he still had an unopened pack of that gum she'd been chewing someplace around the apartment.

Four was a question. Why am I sitting next to your hospital bed?

Which time? Booth wondered. The time the refrigerator exploded, and Bones spent the evening with him rather than going out on her date?

Or the time Booth had amnesia after his surgery and had been unsure of his own reality when he'd finally opened his eyes?

Either seemed like logical situations, both altering the course of their relationship. It seemed everything they did together was defined by some sort of tragedy.

Shaking his head, Booth chased his own memories away. This wasn't about him, it was about making sure Bones reclaimed everything she had lost.

But was he making it about him? It seemed more and more like it was about keeping his own heart safe, rather than giving Bones what she needed.

Without looking at another thing, he crumpled the paper back into its original shape and clutched it in his fist. Rising from the couch, he went to the kitchen, retrieving a box of matches.

Booth was pleased to see his hands were steady as he held the lit match to the paper, waiting until the last second to toss it into the sink. As the flames died, Booth turned on the water and washed the ashes down the drain.

He sensed her behind him a split second before she lay a hand on his shoulder. Slowly, he turned, meeting her eyes. Guilt was ridiculous, but he still felt like a kid caught doing something he knew he shouldn't have.

She looked into the sink and back at him. "Did you read it?" she asked.

"Only to number four," he confessed.

"Why?" she asked, surprised at the hurt she felt. "Is it because you don't trust me?"

"No," he said. "It's because I don't trust myself."

Pushing past her, to avoid whatever it was he saw in her eyes, he moved back toward the couch. He wasn't surprised when she was able to keep up with him. She was definitely healing.

Slumping into the corner, he was amused when she stopped in front of him, her arms crossed across her chest.

"I know I don't remember our history, at least very little of it," she said. "But I can sit and listen if you need to talk, about the shooting or anything else. I can be there for you, Booth, if that's what you need right now."

When one hand was extended her way, Brennan took it without hesitation. Using the leverage, he pulled her toward him, until she was forced to sit in his lap or fall.

"I had no right to read it. I have no right to hold you like this now," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry."

Leaning into him, she tucked her head under his chin. "It's okay," she whispered. She meant both parts. There wasn't anything on that paper he didn't know anyway. And having Booth hold her was the best thing she'd felt in weeks.

"No," he disagreed, "it's probably not." But it wasn't enough for him to let her go.

His arms came around her, pulling her a little tighter against him. He was silent for so long, Brennan thought he probably wasn't going to say anything. Which was fine, too. She'd be there was he was ready.

"I'm supposed to be helping you through this, not the other way around," he complained.

"Partners," she reminded him, "friends. Maybe something more. I'm here if you need me, Booth."

"I'm afraid I'll screw this up again. That I won't have the right answers to all your questions. I thought maybe I could get a head start by reading your paper."

"I informed you it didn't matter, Booth. I meant it."

His sigh ruffled the hair at the top of her head. "What was the last question on the paper? The one I'm assuming was there because you weren't sure you should ask it."

Brennan could hear his heart pounding in his chest. She knew how desperately he wanted an answer, but she licked her lips and pressed them together, refusing to give it.

"It doesn't matter," she said slowly, enunciating each word. "You need to trust me and yourself enough to listen to what I'm telling you."

He listened and he heard, but Booth still was't sure. It seemed too much to hope for, that she wouldn't pack her bags and run as soon as she was able. "Fine, Bones, it doesn't matter," he agreed.

But it was clear to both of them, that for him, it did.


	22. Fanatic

She woke the next morning in Booth's bed, alone. At some point during the night, she must have fallen asleep and Booth had carried her in.

While her feelings were clearer to her each day, Booth's appeared more muddled, at least to her. He seemed unsteady and Brennan wasn't sure if he was waiting for some sign from her or if something else was taking place.

Laying on her back, staring at the ceiling, Brennan heaved a sigh, pleased when the action didn't cause the same level of discomfort as it had previously. Maybe, with a little persuasion, Booth would actually take her someplace today, even if it was only for a drive. She was sick of being stuck inside. Boredom was starting to set in.

Her bare feet were loud as she walked in the apartment. It didn't take Brennan long to realize Booth wasn't there and for a change he hadn't called anyone to come sit with her. Apparently, he had also come to the conclusion that she could be left alone for more than ten minutes at a time.

While pleased at that development, Brennan was also a bit dismayed that he hadn't woken her to inform her of his departure. Or left a note to tell her where he was going.

Brennan thought she'd provided the support he needed last night, but maybe Booth needed some time alone. Which he was more than welcome to. Some sort of indication of where he'd gone would have been nice, though.

Shaking her head, Brennan grabbed some yogurt for breakfast and started looking for her phone. She considered simply calling Booth, but his disappearing act gave her some time to take care of other things, without him hovering over her shoulder.

It took a little convincing, but Angela finally agreed to come over and get her out of there. Pleased, she finished her breakfast and returned to the bedroom to get ready.

OoOoOo

"So where do you want to go?" Angela asked her, after they were both in the vehicle. She thought Brennan looked better, there was more color in her cheeks and her movements were less slow, but Angela had no intention of keeping her out more than an hour or two. Just enough time to maybe stop for lunch.

Given that Brennan wasn't sure she could persuade anyone to take her, she hadn't actually picked a destination. Looking out the window, she considered her options. "Are there any sports memorabilia stores around here?"

Brow furrowing, Angela nodded slowly. "There's one a couple of blocks from here. Why?"

Unsure, Brennan stared out the passenger window, refusing to look at her friend. "I want to get something for Booth," she admitted.

Because she wasn't looking, she missed the smile that crossed Angela's face. "You want to buy a gift for Booth?"

Finally, Brennan turned. "Am I making a mistake?"

"In buying Booth a gift? No, of course not. I think that's a nice thing to do for him." Angela paused, then continued. "Is there a reason you want to get him something?"

"He's been so nice to me, taking care of me while I recover." Clearly uncomfortable, Brennan played with the strap of the purse resting in her lap.

Angela shot her a glance. "Is that the only reason?"

"I'm in love with him," Brennan blurted out.

The shriek in the car practically deafened them both. "It's about time you remembered. Does Booth know?"

"Slow down, Angela. I don't remember, at least not everything. Just those bits and pieces that keep appearing randomly."

Her face fell and Angela fought down the disappointment. "But you just said you were in love with him."

"I am in love with him," she corrected. "Present tense. But not because I remember being in love with him. Because I am right now. I'm not explaining this very well."

A gentle hand patted Brennan's leg. "I've got it, sweetie. It doesn't matter what happened or what you felt before the shooting. You're in love with him right now, today."

"Something like that. I find this more confusing than normal," Brennan confessed. "But I know I love him."

"Does Booth know?"

Brennan shook her head. "I'm not sure what's going on with him. He's so afraid of what I'll remember or how I'll remember it that he's not acting rationally. I fear that he thinks I'll leave him. It's apparently one memory or several memories about one thing that are worrying him."

Angela nodded, but didn't speak.

"You know what that is, don't you?" Brennan asked.

Again, Angela nodded.

Staring at the entrance to the storefront Angela pulled in front of, Brennan didn't bother asking what those memories were, because she knew Angela wouldn't tell her. "Do you think I'll leave when I remember?"

"Nope," Angela said, turning the car off. "Not a chance."

"Then why is Booth so worried?"

Exiting the car, Angela used the time to formulate an answer. And decided to go with the truth as she saw it. "Because the thought of losing you is too much for him to handle after you almost died."

A little slower that Angela, Brennan also made her way from the vehicle. "Should I tell him I love him?"

"Yeah, you should. Now come on," she said, hooking Brennan's arm in hers, "let's go get that sports fanatic of yours a great gift."


	23. Misty

_A/N: Sorry…don't hate me._

It was after lunch when Angela left her at the door of the apartment. Brennan was tired, but not exhausted, which pleased her. Still, a nap seemed like a good idea. Then perhaps take-out and another episode of _The X-files._

Her small gift carried in one hand, Brennan walked in to find her suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor. She hadn't even been aware Booth had her suitcase. Confused, she walked around it, wondering what was going on.

"Booth?" she called out.

He came around the corner so fast, she took an instinctive step back. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

Booth hadn't intended to be away so long and assumed he'd be home before Brennan woke. He'd only gone for some groceries. But one person after another had stopped him and then his phone rang. When Booth finally arrived home, the apartment was empty, Brennan nowhere to be found. After the previous evening, he'd assumed the worst.

Bones had finally given up on him, on them, and decided to leave. The memories, or his own inability to be what she needed had finally driven her away.

Warily, Brennan placed the gift bag on the counter. "I could ask the same of you," she countered. "When I woke, you were gone. I called Angela. She took me to lunch," she finished, leaving out the first destination.

"And you don't answer your phone? Or leave a note?" His voice angry, he paced the floor in front of her. "And you aren't well enough to be out of the apartment."

Booth was worried, scared and knew he was taking those feelings out on her.

"I'm more than capable of deciding what I am well enough for. I didn't realize I needed your permission to leave." Brennan was trying and failing to hold on to her patience. "It was apparent you didn't want me to know where you were. If you don't extend me that courtesy, why would you expect me to do so?"

"Besides," she said, kicking at the suitcase. "It's clear what you've been doing while I was gone. You could have simply asked me to leave."

Yes, it was packed. But not for the reasons she thought. Booth assumed Bones would call later that day or send Angela to pick up her things. He was just preparing for the inevitable.

And it gave him something to do while he beat himself up for his own perceived failures.

It had terrified him, to come home and find her gone. No note, no phone calls, nothing but the memories of the previous evening to go by. Booth hadn't trusted her enough not to look at that paper, or trusted himself enough to support her as the memories returned, and she wasn't going to forgive him for it.

When he didn't deny it, Brennan nodded. "I should be more than well enough to stay by myself. I can be out of here tomorrow. The evidence clearly shows that you are ready for me to leave. That's why you packed my suitcase."

His worry for them blinding him, it took him several seconds to process what she'd just said. "No," he said, now frantic instead of angry. "That isn't what's going on here."

Her eyes misty, Brennan figured this was the reason no one wanted to talk to her about their relationship. It seemed she was in love with him, but the feelings were not reciprocated. While he apparently loved her in the past, he no longer did. Booth had invited her to stay with him because he cared for her. Not because he was in love with her.

"Bones, wait," he said, coming forward to grab her arm. "Let me explain."

She pulled away from him. "Don't touch me," she ordered. Brennan was annoyed to find tears pooling in her eyes. "It doesn't matter," she said, remembering when she'd reassured Booth with those words the previous evening. Now, they were crushing her heart.

"It does matter," he argued. "I want you to let me explain."

Shaking her head, Brennan retrieved the bag with the gift in it. "I got this for you," she said, now thoroughly disgusted with herself as her voice broke. "I wanted to thank you for being so good to me." And to tell you I love you, she added, but didn't say the words to him, ignoring Angela's advice.

Booth tucked his hands in his pocket refusing the package. "I'll take it after you listen."

But Bones was beyond that point. All she could hear was the voice inside her head, telling her how wrong she was. That once again, she'd misunderstood everything.

When several seconds passed and Booth didn't come forward, Brennan let the bag drop from her numb fingers. It hit the floor between them with a thud that had her flinching.

"I'm going to take a nap," she said softly. "Maybe after that, you can take me to my place. If you don't want to, I can call Angela."

"You. Are. Not. Leaving." he growled. "If you don't want to listen right now, fine, but you aren't leaving."

Too tired to argue, Brennan simply walked past him. The bedroom door closed behind her with a quiet click, that was somehow worse than if she'd slammed it.

Leaving the package where it landed, Booth crossed to the closed bedroom door and sat on the floor, his back against it. She'd have to physically move him to get by.

Crossing his arms on his bent legs, Booth rested his forehead against them, listening to her cry. And crying a little himself, if he was honest, for what he'd just done.

He thought she sucked at the emotional crap sometimes? He probably deserved a prize for the stupidity of his latest move.

There was no way she was leaving the apartment. When Bones calmed down, they'd be able to talk it through. It took every ounce of discipline he had not to go in, scoop her in his arms and force her to listen right that moment.

But Bones was all about evidence and that packed suitcase was all she needed to come to her conclusions. The wrong conclusions, but without new evidence, there would be no changing her mind.


	24. Ocean

She was somewhere. Brennan didn't recognize the location, Booth standing next to her. It made no sense; the last thing she remembered was hiding in his bedroom, wondering if Booth listened to her as she cried.

Brennan decided he probably had, acknowledging she could have cried herself an ocean, if that sort of thing was possible. He might have left her alone, but the Booth she knew, no matter what was going on, wouldn't have been far away.

The edges of her vision had that fuzzy quality that indicated she was dreaming. Brennan wondered if this was another memory, or something her subconscious had come up with to deal with her emotional pain.

"Where are we? Are we stuck here?" she asked Booth.

He shook his head. "It's your dream. We're wherever you want us to be. And you're stuck here. I'm not."

That didn't make any sense, but dreams rarely did. How could they be together, but only one of them be stuck?

Booth morphed into Angela and Brennan backed away. "Why won't you tell him?" she asked Brennan.

"He doesn't love me," Brennan said sadly. "Or at least, he doesn't anymore." And she'd been so sure he did. Angela had implied so.

Sweets appeared in Angela's place. "Why do you think that? Hasn't he proven more than once that he loves you?"

"He packed my suitcase. The evidence shows he wants me to leave." It was in the middle of the floor as she walked in. A blind man wouldn't have missed it. Brennan had been lucky not to trip over it.

"Sometimes, the evidence can be confusing, Dr. B," Hodgins reminded her. "Sometimes you need another person to clarify it for you."

What was confusing about a packed suitcase in the middle of the floor? Brennan was sure she hadn't misinterpreted that one.

But Booth had been acting rather irrationally lately. Perhaps the suitcase had something to do with that.

And why did her mind keep parading all of these people in front of her? Her subconscious was not as rational as she'd like it to be.

"Who am I going to ask?" Brennan demanded. "Who will clarify any of this evidence for me?"

"Me," Booth said, reappearing in front of her. "You should be able to ask me anything."

He stood facing her now, broad shoulders blocking the view behind him. Brennan tried to touch him, but her hand passed through.

"Including why you want me to go?" she asked.

"I never said that to you," he said. "If you go, I'll chase you this time."

Brennan wondered if that was would really be his response, or the one her subconscious wanted him to say.

"You jumped to conclusions," he accused her.

"So did you," she countered. "And I don't jump to conclusions," she argued as he faded, and the wall was in front of her again. No longer grey, it was translucent, with the locked door positioned directly in front of her.

Brennan knew what she needed to figure out now. She had to be sure of her own feelings and she was. Despite what Booth may or may not feel for her, Brennan was in love with him.

She knew it, Angela knew it, everyone knew it.

Maybe Booth knew it, too, and was just waiting for her to say something. Or was hoping she didn't say anything because he wasn't in love with her anymore.

Either scenario could be true based on what little she remembered.

A blonde woman, who seemed to be both enemy and friend, had come into his life at some point. He was moving on. Brennan had several images of her bouncing around in her brain. It was the last question on her crumpled paper, the one she hadn't dared to ask.

Brennan wasn't sure her heart could handle the answer.

He'd packed her suitcase and left it in the middle of the floor. A clear sign that he wanted her to leave.

But he'd brought her into his home and took care of her like he loved her. And the blonde was nowhere to be seen. So perhaps, she was no longer part of Booth's life.

They'd never been intimate.

But he knew her in ways no one else did. There were more ways to be intimate than just physically.

It had to be love. There was no other explanation for what she felt from him when they were together.

It was all so confusing to her, even in the dream.

Looking up, Brennan realized there was a key in the lock now.

She didn't know what she'd find on the other side of that wall. It would have been so easy to ignore that key and wake herself up. To hide her feelings and herself from him. To keep her heart safe. But she wanted those memories with the man she'd left standing dejected in the other room. Brennan needed to know what they meant to each other.

She needed to know if she had a chance. To know if Booth was acting irrationally based out of fear, and not because he didn't want her.

Touching Booth had been impossible, but the key was solid in Brennan's hand as she turned it. Pulling the door open, she looked at everything she saw in front of her, both the good times and the bad.

"It's about time," she muttered.

And she walked through.

 _A/N: Is this a good time to tell you I'm going on vacation to an island with no Internet access? No? Haha - Just kidding._


	25. Sting

The room behind him had been quiet for so long, Booth was certain Bones had fallen asleep.

He wished he could do the same, if only for the peace sleep might bring him.

Booth knew he'd made a huge mistake and if Brennan left him, it would be his fault.

Again.

It seemed no matter how hard he tried, he never got it right with her.

His own fears and insecurities were driving a wedge between them this time.

Booth knew his heart rested on the other side of that closed door. She was where he belonged; he was done trying to live his life without her.

So he kept his silent vigil, waiting for any sound, any sign that might indicate she was willing to listen to him.

He heard her get up from her nap and turn the tv on in the room, but she never came to the door. If Booth was still a betting man, he would place money on Bones knowing he was sitting there, waiting for her to come out.

The idea that she skipped dinner bothered him, but he dared not to take her anything. His fear that he wouldn't have the words he needed kept Booth from opening the door.

The television went off after the evening news, both of them too stubborn to make a move to end the stalemate.

After one in the morning, Booth realized he couldn't let this happen again. The night outside the Hoover had been a disaster, a lot of it his own doing. Misunderstandings and failures to say what needed to be said had led to consequences he hadn't expected. There was no way he could allow it a second time.

He was stiff from sitting in one position for so long. It took him several minutes to unknot his muscles so he could even stand.

"Bones," he called through the closed door. He hand was on the knob, his forehead pressed to the cool wood. "Please let me in." It seemed ridiculous to ask her to open a door she couldn't lock, but Booth didn't want to barge in on her either. "I want to explain, but I don't want to do it through the door."

When no response came, Booth finally gave up on being polite and entered the room. Brennan was curled in a ball in the center of the bed, eyes closed.

"Bones," he said again, kneeling behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Will you let me explain?"

Opening her eyes, Brennan looked into his brown ones and immediately started to cry again. "Not now," she whispered, turning away. "I can't talk to you now."

Her rejection stung, but he didn't back away from her. "What's wrong, Bones?" he asked, knowing it was probably him she cried over.

But she kept her back to him, continuing to cry softly.

Because it was all there. The first case when she slapped him, his fake death, her refusal to take a chance that night in front of the Hoover and, of course, Hannah. The blonde, who Brennan decided, was more enemy than friend. And if remembering just one thing had brought her to tears earlier in the week, having everything appear at once was like being hit by a truck.

They'd denied each other; claimed to be only partners when they were so much more. Her heart was open enough for him now and she hoped his was the same.

Desperate, Booth remained kneeling behind her. His hand squeezed her shoulder, offering support without words. "What's going on, Bones? Can you tell me?"

Despite the time of night, Booth could clearly see the shake of her head.

It was too much for Brennan right then. There were no words inside her head, just memories battling to be remembered.

Knowing he was running out of options, he started to talk and hoped she would listen.

"I packed the suitcase because I thought you were leaving, you had already left," he explained. "I thought you were angry with me for reading your list, for not being to explain things…for a lot of things," he said. If he kept going with the list of things she might be angry over, it would be dawn before he finished.

"I don't want you to leave, Bones. I never want you to leave. I am terrified you will walk out that door and I will never have this chance with you again."

Brennan remained with her back to him, but her crying had slowed. Booth took it as a sign she was listening and sat behind her, moving his hand to run it up and down her back.

"Please don't leave," he begged, no longer too proud to do so. "I don't want to be without you anymore. Just stay." He fell silent, not sure what else to say to her. "Please. Just stay."

When there was still no response, Booth rubbed a hand over his face and tried one more time. "I am sorry, Bones. I should have had more faith in myself, in what we have together."

Knowing she needed to say something, anything to him, Brennan took a deep breath. But she wasn't ready to deal with what he was saying to her, and what he still hadn't said. Her head hurt and her emotions were overwhelming her. She knew she needed to tell him, that her memories were back, that she was in love with him, but when she opened her mouth, none of that came out.

"Stay with me, Booth?" she asked.

Not sure if that meant she forgave him, and wondering if that's all she cried over, Booth curled himself in behind her and pulled her against his chest. He was surprised when she relaxed almost bonelessly into him.

"I expect you to unpack my suitcase," she said softly, avoiding everything. And knowing in the end, she would be able to avoid nothing.

She felt the relief rush through his body. "You'll stay?" he asked. Booth knew there was more, but for tonight, he'd give her what she needed. And if holding Bones was it, Booth was more than happy to comply.

Knowing there was a lot that needed to be said in the morning, Brennan gave him the only promise she could at that moment.

"I'll stay."


	26. Trample

Brennan woke late the next day, feeling like her entire body had been trampled on. Her chest was sore from both her healing wounds and the number of times she'd cried in the last twenty-four hours.

Telling Booth about both her memories and her feelings was a problem that seemed even more overwhelming in the light of day. How did one start a conversation like that? And which was more important to share first?

Would he believe she loved him if he didn't know her memories were back?

But if Brennan told him she remembered everything, would he still believe she loved him?

It was a dilemma she didn't often face and had no idea how to deal with.

The suitcase no longer sat in the middle of the floor, but the package did, when she came out of the bedroom. Booth was sitting in front of the tv, watching what looked like sports highlights.

"Morning, Bones," he greeted. "There's coffee in the kitchen."

Brennan came to a dead stop just outside the door and simply stared at him. They'd had a fight, she'd cried, and Booth started the day like nothing had happened. "After everything that's gone on in the last twenty-four hours, that's how you start the day?"

He froze with a cup of coffee halfway to his lips. "How would you like me start, Bones? Sorry I acted like an idiot and why did you start crying again after I came in last night? My gut tells me it was more than you just being mad at me."

"You and your gut," she said. "Did it tell you anything else?" Without waiting for his response, she headed for the coffee. A little caffeine would help kick her brain into gear.

The comment had him raising his eyebrows. They hadn't talked about his instincts since the shooting. Another one of those random memories slipping through apparently. "Forget it, Bones," he grumbled, "we'll talk about it later."

"You can't say that to your partner, Booth. You taught me that."

Because her back was to him as she poured herself a cup of coffee, she didn't see the surprised look cross his face at her words. Narrowing his eyes, Booth slowly sipped his coffee, the investigator in him coming to life.

It wasn't that she'd said them; comments like that had a habit of slipping out, despite her loss of memory. But two of them in less than a minute? Then there was how she'd said them. Like she knew exactly what they meant, no confusion, no question.

Had something else happened during the night?

If she remembered him, them, everything, why wasn't she saying anything?

But Booth knew exactly why she wasn't speaking. He packed her suitcase. Didn't have enough faith in himself, in her, to assume she'd stay. Bones wasn't saying anything to protect her own heart.

He knew quite a bit about that.

Booth considered how he wanted to handle this. Wait for her to come to him or just ask her straight out? Tell her how he felt and hope Bones admitted to feeling the same way?

"What's wrong now?" she asked, forcing him to refocus on her. She was leaning with her back against the counter, a cup of coffee in her hand.

You're what's wrong, he wanted to say. You tie me up in knots trying to figure out what's going on in that pretty head of yours.

When he didn't answer, she looked around the room. "Where's the suitcase?"

Brennan knew she was avoiding the issues. So was he. They'd gotten very good at that over the years.

He gestured vaguely with the cup. "The other room." One more sip of coffee and he decided to end the game. This had gone on far too long.

"Are you going to tell me?" he finally blurted. "I think something happened in that room last night, before I came in. Something you didn't want to talk about last night and are still trying to avoid this morning."

Her eyes widened slightly. She'd never been able to hide anything from this man. Brennan's brilliant mind considered all the answers she could give him in seconds, before settling on one. "I was trying to figure out how. We both know I'm not good at social interactions."

Setting the cup on the coffee table, Booth stood. "Normally, you just blurt out the truth. Why stop today?"

"I wasn't sure what to start with."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Booth took a deep breath to calm his suddenly racing heart. The implication there was that she had more than one thing to share. "Let's start with an easy question." At least he hoped it was easy. "Do you remember me?"

Brennan tilted her head to the side. "Of course I remember you. We were together yesterday. My short term memory is fine."

"Bones," he said, his tone a warning. "Now is not the time to pretend you don't understand me. Or to take me literally when you know exactly what I'm referring to."

The nod was abrupt. "Then, yes, I remember you. It. All of it. What gave it away?"

He put his hand on the back of the couch for support and waved off the question. Six years they'd been together, and Bones still questioned his instincts. Now wasn't the time to restart that argument. "Everything?"

She shook her head. "Not the shooting, or the morning of. I remember going to bed the night before and waking up in the hospital. I don't believe those memories will ever return."

At least, that's what she hoped. She didn't need anymore nightmares.

His head dropped toward his chest as he thanked God.

Picking it back up, he took one step toward her. One. It was all his weak knees could manage at that moment. "The night outside the Hoover, Hannah, conversations in the rain?"

The memories he'd been terrified of.

Nodding solemnly, she watched him. "I believe that conversation took place in your vehicle and not in the rain," she corrected. "Even though it was raining that evening." Brennan took another sip of coffee. "I just said I remembered, didn't I?"

"Yes," he agreed, "you did." When she didn't offer anymore, Booth wondered what else she was hiding.

"Should I drag the suitcase back out?" he asked, figuring that was coming. If she remembered him, them, she would also remember they weren't a couple. Had only been circling that idea before she was shot. Bones probably wasn't ready to take the step of actually moving in together.

Her cup hit the counter hard enough to break, spilling coffee and sharp pieces of ceramic there and on the floor. "I thought I was the one who had difficulty with social interactions and social cues. Did something happen those three days I was unconscious to make you lose that ability?"

Turning away, she grabbed paper towels to clean up the mess. If he brought up that suitcase one more time, she was hitting him with it before she left.

"Bones, listen -" Booth tried to say.

When she whirled, there was a broken piece of the cup in her hand. "And if you try to apologize, I'm throwing this at you."

Turning away, she grabbed more towels. "I remember the conversation that you'd only be partners with me. I know, despite that conversation, that you are still..," she paused, not sure how to define it. Finally, she shrugged.

"Sometime in the past weeks since I was shot, we've crossed some sort of metaphorical line we've both been avoiding. At least I have. I'm still not sure about you."


	27. Drop

He took another step toward her. Booth needed her to say it. To spell it out in little English words. "What line have you crossed, Bones?"

Sharp movements continued to clean up the coffee as she thought about the line.

The line she didn't want to admit existed during their first case.

The line she was starting toward when he pulled her from the ground after she escaped the car.

The line she was already on the other side of, when she refused his advances outside the Hoover that night.

The line she finally admitted to during that rainy night when he was still with Hannah.

The line between loving and not loving him.

The line, now that Brennan had a chance, she was never paying attention to again.

She dropped the broken cup into a bag and rinsed her hands in the sink. After drying them, Brennan walked to the center of the room and retrieved the gift from where she'd dropped it the previous afternoon. "I bought this," she began, "for you. Yesterday."

Booth approached her, stopping when she was close enough to touch, but he kept his hands at his sides. "I gathered it was for me. I'm sorry I-"

"Stop apologizing." Eyes stayed on the package as she nervously ran her fingers over the surface. "Angela took me. I wanted to thank you for being so good to me." Shifting her feet nervously, Brennan hesitated. This was it. The chance to spell it all out for him. To find out exactly what he felt for her.

Brennan never considered herself a coward and she didn't plan on starting now. Licking her lips, she finally looked up at him. "And to tell you I was in love with you," she said in a rush.

He blinked and something in his eyes had her heart settling, even though Brennan couldn't put a name to it.

Reaching forward, he took the package from her, allowing his fingers to brush hers. "Are you sure, Bones?"

"That is the line I crossed. I fell in love with you before the memories were back and now that they are back, I'm still in love with you. I've always been sure. Even when I didn't want to be." She sighed and moved out of his reach.

"Where are you going?" he asked. The package was clutched unopened in his hand.

"To get dressed," she said, despite the fact she was heading back toward the kitchen.

"Bones, come here," he ordered, adding a, "please," when she turned to glare at him. He set the package on the back of the couch, to free his hands.

She did as he said, but stopped just out of his reach.

So he took a step forward and was pleased when she didn't back away.

"You can't tell me you love me and then run away. Most people wait for the other person to form some sort of response." The corner of his mouth was lifted in a small smile but Brennan did not return it.

Tilting her head to the side, Brennan waited for him to continue.

Reaching out, he took both her hands in his. Then, leaning forward, he pressed his lips gently to hers.

"I love you, too," he said. "I've loved you for a long time, but I think you know that."

As he pulled back, Brennan stared at him, her blue eyes revealing nothing, something Booth was not used to. "Are you going to say something?" he asked, laughing nervously.

When she still didn't speak, he tried to pull his hands from her, but Brennan held tight, refusing to relinquish her hold.

"Okay," Booth said slowly, more than a little confused. He shook both their hands, unable to stand still. "Listen, Bones, you have to say something here."

"I can't," she finally whispered. "I'll start crying again."

Managing to free one his hands, Booth reached up to brush at her cheek. "You already have," he said. Turning his hand toward her, the dampness was evident on his fingertips. "Why don't you want to cry?" he asked.

Brennan sniffed. "My chest is already sore from yesterday. It will hurt too much."

"Oh," he said, his chuckle soft and deep. "I'm sorry for making you cry yesterday, last night, now, any other time I've made you cry in the past decade."

Unexpectedly, she took a step forward and another, until she was pressed tightly against him, her arms wrapped around his back. "I'm not crying because I'm sad," she explained into his chest.

He could feel her shaking and Booth kissed the top of her head. "I know that, Bones." Booth ran his hands up and down her back, unable to comprehend that he was holding her like this.

And that she loved him. Bones had actually said those words out loud.

To him.

And he'd returned them. Freely. They were finally in the same place at the same time.

When her shoulders started to shake harder, Booth scooped her into his arms and started toward the bedroom. "Come on," he said. "Let's go take a nap."

"We just got up," she pointed out. "At least, I did." But she had to admit, the idea did have its merits.

"You're upset, neither of us slept a lot. We'll lay on the bed together, sleep, and watch some television. Maybe get up for lunch."

"I don't think I'll be able to do much more in that bed than sleep," she said softly, ridiculously afraid of disappointing him. But she was exhausted, physically as well as emotionally. And if Brennan knew the human body as well as she thought she did, their first time together would be explosive.

She would definitely require all her energy for that.

"It's okay, Bones," his voice jovial. "I've waited years for you. A few more days won't kill me. We'll wait until you've got enough energy to spend all day in bed and sleep for none of it."

Yawning, she tucked herself impossibly closer to him. "Just for today, Booth, we'll do things your way. Nap, snuggle, watch television."

He kissed her forehead tenderly, picturing a future with her. "I didn't have any illusions it would last longer than that."


	28. Complain

The nap lasted about thirty minutes in Booth's estimation, before her sudden jump in his arms woke him.

Alarmed, he attempted to pull her closer, but she fought him blindly and Booth pulled his arms back.

He knew how easy it was for outside sensations to get pulled into nightmares.

She settled down after a minute or two and Booth breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this one hadn't been too bad.

Until her eyes snapped open in panic and she pushed herself violently away from him.

"Bones," he said, making a grab for her before she fell off the bed. "I'm here. You're okay."

Gasping for air, Brennan finally recognized where she was and allowed Booth to pull her towards him.

"I don't want to complain about regaining my memory," Brennan said, "but it was nice to sleep without the nightmares."

"They'll fade again," he promised, kissing the back of her neck. "Your brain just needs to adjust."

Nodding, she allowed herself to relax into him. "Can I ask you a question?" she wondered.

"Of course," he said with a laugh. "You've been asking plenty of them the last several weeks."

Smiling at the truth of that statement, Brennan continued. "How long have you been in love with me?"

"How long?" he repeated to give him time to consider his answer. "I think I felt something for you that first time I ever saw you," he said, thinking back to his prayer in the quiet chapel that first afternoon after she'd come back to them. "It took me a little longer to put a name to it, but you never left me, even the years we were apart."

Rolling so she could see his face, Brennan put a warm hand on his cheek. "And how long do you plan on loving me?"

"Eternity," he said softly. "I will love you for eternity. No matter what happens between us, I will love you forever, Bones."

"Good," she said, pulling his head down toward hers. "I feel the same way."

OoOoOo

6 weeks later…

Brennan swiped her way onto the platform, clipping her id card back to the pocket of her coat. "What do you have for us this time?" she asked, grabbing a set of gloves from the box closest to her.

"No idea," Booth said, looking down at his notecards. "Guy found the garbage can in a storage unit he was cleaning out. Loaded it in his truck and took it home before he opened it. Then he drove it to the local police station, who called us."

"How does that make it an FBI case?" Brennan asked, walking slowly around the can. The lid had already been removed and the top of a skull was visible among the debris.

"Storage unit was rented by a former Senator, apparently. He died about six years ago. It went up for auction when the fees weren't paid. I haven't had time to check into any missing assistants or anything like that yet."

Nodding, Brennan took a moment to shoot him a smile before focusing back on the can.

The last six weeks had probably been the best of her life, not that he didn't already know that. If anything, the friendship she'd always worried about losing if she crossed that line, only made their relationship stronger.

Noticing the look on her face, Booth stepped closer to her. "You okay, Bones?" he asked quietly, running a hand down her arm. No one else had joined them yet, but he could hear Angela and Cam coming toward the platform.

"Fine," she said. Noting the people walking toward them, she decided to make him just a little uncomfortable. "Just thinking about what we did last night, and the variation I've come up with for tonight."

"What?" he choked out as she stepped away from him. "Variation?"

"Variation on what?" Cam asked, coming up behind the pair. Glancing back and forth between the two, she noted Brennan's smug and Booth's slightly dumbfounded look. She shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"There isn't much we can do here, until the garbage can is drained," Brennan said, reverting back to professional mode. "I have some reports to work on in my office. Call me when the body is visible."

Booth watched her walk away and then looked toward the women watching him. "What she said," he muttered as he followed her off the platform.

Following Brennan into the office, Booth closed the door behind him. "What sort of variation?" he asked, unable to drag his mind away from that simple comment.

"Anticipation can heighten sexual experience," she said with a teasing grin."I think I'll let you wait until tonight."

Brennan had never left his apartment. Each week, a bit more of her stuff would appear until the line between his and hers blended and merged. She discovered that giving up that metaphorical piece of yourself didn't mean you became weaker.

If anything, it made her stronger.

"Come on, Booth," she said, grabbing her coat. "Let's get some lunch. I'll probably be here late after the body is exposed."

Nodding, Booth held open the door for her, placing his hand in the small of her back to guide her through. "Maybe you can tell me about that variation on our way."

Her laughter had several people turning their way as they walked out of the Jeffersonian.

Together.

 _A/N: This is the end. At least, it feels like the end. Thank you for all of the reviews and follows and likes and all of those things that makes me keep writing. I hope you enjoyed the journey._


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